The Trickster and the Lionheart
by LadyAureliana
Summary: Roy Mustang is the absolute best agent the FBI has, closing every case that comes his way. Riza Hawkeye is the most talented thief in the world; so skilled that no one knew she existed. Yet all may not be as it seems, and the only person you can trust, might be the last person you expect. Royai.
1. The 'Mission: Peace' Job

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello again! Just a few notes about this story:  
1\. This one jumps into a modern, Earth-based AU so no alchemy and it takes place in our world.  
2\. I have changed the nature of Hawkeye's relationship with her father in a way that should be made clear as the story develops. For this one, I didn't want him to be such a terrible person.  
3\. I will likely not be posting every week as I was with my last story since, toward the end of it, I had some difficulties keeping up with that frequency of posting. That said, I will also make sure I'm not letting weeks go by between posts. I will do my absolute best to keep it reasonable but just wanted to be upfront about it.

I hope you like the first chapter :)

* * *

 **The 'Mission: Peace' Job**

The night air was warm and the building before them was ablaze with lights as FBI Special Agents Roy Mustang and Jean Havoc ascended the front steps. Roy adjusted the tie he wore as he reached into an inner pocket for the invitations that had been procured for them. Before he could produce them, Havoc showed his FBI badge to the doorman and to the front desk as they strode on through. Appraising his appearance in the dark windows they passed, Roy ran a hand through his hair that was black as pitch. Shaking his head, he quietly said to his partner, "Going undercover is pointless if you keep flashing the badge around."

"Just go ahead and cool it, dude. If our boy is here, he'll recognize us as feds with or without the badge. He's a pro."

"Wait a sec," Heymans Breda, the team's computer whiz, interrupted over their communication devices. "You didn't even _use_ the invitations? Do you know what I had to do to get those? You don't wanna know, Boss."

"Talk to Havoc, man," Roy replied, while in the background Breda could be heard muttering, _Oh, hey, Breda. We just need invites to some party you basically have to be the President or Steve-freakin-Jobs to get into…_

"Oh, get _over_ it," Havoc said, attempting to end his teammate's complaining.

As they walked into the grand entryway to join the other guests, Roy and Jean both picked up glasses of champagne from a passing tray. They casually moved about the room, appearing to study the various pieces of artwork therein while in truth observing the people around them. He tried to take in as many details as possible, thinking anything might be useful against criminals no one had ever seen.

"Ok, Boss, we know the drill," Breda said. "I've got the video feeds…taking stills of faces as we speak."

"I'm in the security office," Vato Falman informed him. He was the prematurely gray-haired member of their team with an encyclopedic memory.

"And I'm at the door, checking every...single…invitation," Maria Ross contributed, their newest and youngest member.

"Everyone gets put through their paces, Ross. Don't feel bad," Breda replied with a chuckle. "My first week, the Boss made me sift through three hundred names, by myself, to catch the Green Gate arms dealer. I consumed an unhealthy number of energy drinks that week."

"Dude, you're like Edward forty-hands with the energy drinks. Don't lie," Havoc laughed along with a smattering of snickers from the team. The goldenrod haired agent was suddenly shoved forward when someone collided with his back, sending some of his beverage to the floor.

Roy turned to look as he heard a woman whisper, "Shit," and saw a member of the serving staff trying to stabilize a tray of glasses. She was at least a few inches shorter than himself and his partner, with curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail. The woman wore glasses with black frames, along with an expression of acute embarrassment.

"Oh, I am _terribly_ sorry, sir," she said to Havoc, handing him a towel to wipe up any bubbly that had gotten on his tux. She had a mild English accent and continued, glancing briefly at Roy. "My apologies, really. It's my first big event…I'm a bit nervous." This was accompanied by another self-conscious smile.

Havoc gazed at her as his flirtatious grin widened, and Roy rolled his eyes, deciding to turn back toward the painting in front of them. "No harm done," his blonde partner replied, reaching a hand out for her to shake. "Hi, I'm Jean. What's your name?"

The young woman's brow furrowed minutely and rather than accept his hand she reached toward the ground. A moment later she handed him something and told him "I believe you dropped this. Again, I'm so sorry…but I should be getting back to work."

She placed his badge in his hand and Havoc responded, "Hey, thanks. So, you were just about to…" as he tucked his badge into his back pocket. Then he looked up and saw she'd gone, trailing off lamely, "…tell me your name. Or not."

The blonde turned to once more face the painting, Roy laughing into his champagne flute and shaking his head as he took a sip. "What's your name? Really? I'd call that a crash and burn." Ignoring the glare from his friend, he quietly said to his team, "Ross, head back to the kitchens and check out the serving staff. A young woman, brown curly hair, glasses, about 5' 8." And check on Altman, his comm still isn't working."

"Sure thing, Boss," came Ross' reply.

"Not everyone is a crook, Roy. She's a _server_ ," Havoc reminded him as they continued on the circuit of artworks surrounding the room.

"I am aware," he replied, calmly scanning the crowd. "But we are here tonight because we put something together that no one else had. I'm not taking any chances. I mean, a server bumps into you, and your badge just _happens_ to fall out? Come on, that could have been a lift."

"I've found a signal mixed in with museum security," Breda interjected. "I can't get rid of it, but I'll try to see what it's after."

"Ya know, I was thinking," Havoc began.

"Oh boy, there's a terrifying thought," Breda replied.

"Fuck off, man," Havoc rejoined. "Seriously, this guy freakin' does it all. Maybe once we catch him we should just hire his ass."

"Very funny, Jean," Roy responded, with mild irritation. "He's going to prison, where he belongs."

"I think we're gonna catch him…I've got a good feeling. And I smell a promotion when we do." Havoc punched him in the arm and smiled as punctuation.

"Can we even be sure we're looking for a man?" Falman suddenly interposed into the conversation, but no one responded.

Ross' voice came through the comms again. "Boss, I saw your girl out on the floor. The name is Jacqueline Disanto, but I haven't found anything special about her. I _did_ find Altman in the janitor's closet. He's alive, but knocked out…I think drugged based on this note. And I quote, 'Two aspirin and a glass of water in the morning. He'll be fine.' And there's a goddamn winky face at the end." The team chuckled.

Roy shared a look with Havoc. "Get security to carry him outside. Shit. Keep your eyes peeled. Falman, did you see anything?"

"Not a thing…no camera in that area," Vato informed him.

Roy and his partner continued around the room, visually surveying the guests. Nothing was happening and he thought it odd.

"Oh, heck yeah!" Breda suddenly exclaimed. "I am _the_ man. That was a comm signal, and guess what? I think we found our thieves."

"Let me hear it," Roy told his tech guy, scanning faces for someone talking to themselves or trying to shield their mouth with a glass.

A woman's voice was heard first, "…nice ass, don't you think?"

" _Freya_ ," another woman's voice said. "I swear to fucking Odin that if you keep…"

"Fine, Fine," Freya responded.

"But, yes, very nice ass…" The second female voice said.

" _Ladies_ ," this time a man's voice appeared, he sounded older. "How many times do I have to tell you not to take my name in vain?" Roy and Jean shared another look, brows perplexed, and then returned to perusing the crowd.

A laugh sounded. "So sorry, Odin." Freya paused, and continued. "Alright, first up on tonight's episode of Random Trivia: A few years ago, _Forbes_ estimated Scrooge McDuck's wealth. What was it?"

"I'll take that," another man suddenly said, not hesitating an instant. "That would be $65.4 billion, thank you very much."

"Bravo, Freyr," the man known as Odin praised.

"Wait," a third man's voice said. "Seriously... _Why_ do you know that?"

Havoc looked at him and asked, "Is this really what they talk about during a job? Are we sure this is the right group?"

"Who else would it be?" Roy softly countered. "The museum, the event…it fits their norm."

"Ahh, Boss?" Falman asked. "I am now watching repeat footage."

"And looped footage…that also fits their modus operandi. They don't know we're listening, do they?"

"No way," Breda replied.

Roy sighed with irritation and fruitlessly scanned the room once more. He and his team had connected various unsolved thefts from the past two years, attributing them to one unknown group. Crimes originally thought to be unrelated were found to have similarities in type of target or procedure. But to say that they were predictable would be presumptuous; it was more one of his famous gut feelings. They had evidently found their mysterious crew, but listening in on their conversation was useless, and they were still unsure of the exact target.

* * *

 _A little while earlier:_

"Alright kids," Walter Grumman, also known as Odin, cheerfully said via his earpiece to the other members of the team with which she worked. He was in a limousine on the way to what was looking to be a fantastic 'Mission: Peace' Event at the Museum of Art and History in Baltimore. "This is your final question and answer period before the big test."

A chuckle came over the airwaves. "I think we're good, Odin," Riza Hawkeye (a.k.a. Loki) replied via their comm devices. She was at that moment walking into the rear of the museum, dressed as a member of the serving staff hired for the event. "But thanks for checking. My ETA is two minutes."

"Copy that," Rebecca Catalina (a.k.a. Freya) responded. "Ours is ten."

"By the way, Freya, you are looking especially lovely this evening," Grumman told her, adjusting his bow-tie and running a hand over his immaculately styled, though receding, steel-gray hair. He wore glasses and had temporarily grown a mustache to obscure his features.

"Aww, thanks you 'ol perv," she replied, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of the deep burgundy gown that fit her curves perfectly. Despite the epithet 'perv' with which she graced him, she smiled at the compliment, pulling a mirror down to check her reflection and unnecessarily fix her long and seductive silk-black hair.

"Okay, guys," Kain Fuery (a.k.a. Sigurd), their tech guru and youngest team-member, greeted them. He was a teen genius with just about everything, but especially with computers. "I own the security cameras, and if there is a recording device of any other kind in that building, it's mine. At this time, I'm getting only the normal signals from the security guards' radios and what not."

"Roger that," Denny Brosh (a.k.a. Freyr), the final member of their team, chimed in from his own position with the event support staff.

"Mmm…this is going to be fun," Riza murmured to herself, ready for an operation after their small hiatus. "Remember everyone, keep on the lookout for any friends. We haven't been found yet, but there's a first time for everything."

"If they're any good they'll be here," Rebecca drily replied, not harboring much faith in law enforcement in general.

With a brown, curly haired wig concealing her true hair (the color of straw and just as stick-straight), Riza made her way through the museum's less glamorous areas. She toyed slightly with the fake glasses perched on her petite nose, there to draw attention from her facial features, and thanked herself for remembering to don colored contact lenses to disguise her real eye color. In her opinion, you could never be too careful.

Taking a moment to drop her purse in the janitor's closet, she locked the door as she left and continued toward the grand entryway where many guests would be milling about waiting for the main event to begin. The janitorial staff would not arrive for another few hours, and until then that little room was theirs if they needed it.

Grabbing a tray of filled champagne flutes, she exited the swinging kitchen doors and danced through the throng of well-dressed socialites, politicians, and businessmen. Riza stopped occasionally to offer a group or individual the opportunity to take a glass while her eyes swept the room.

"Loki, I saw a man enter the security office," Denny told them. "Tall, white hair, and not part of the regular security team." She made brief eye contact with her teammate as they crossed paths.

"Thanks, Freyr. Keep an eye on him," she replied, on the move again. "I've got a young woman, black hair, Marilyn Monroe beauty mark on her face. She's behind the desk, accepting invitations, but she was not an employee as of yesterday."

"We're here, and I see her," Rebecca interjected as she and Grumman entered through the front doors. "Definitely new…and definitely a fed."

"This is going to be more fun than I thought," Grumman added with a little laugh, handing his and Rebecca's invitations to a young man behind the counter. The pair chatted, turning to look at something when the agent came by to check their invitations, giving her only a profile view of their faces.

Her tray empty, Riza returned to the kitchens and retrieved a full one, rejoining the throng to pass out more beverages. She stopped to offer drinks to her two teammates attending the event, saying with a smile, "Can I interest you in some champagne, Miss? Sir?"

Taking a glass, Rebecca quietly told her, "Two men, wearing tuxes…checking out the painting of the belly dancer. More fucking feds…"

"Thank you, my dear," Grumman said with a wink.

"I'll take care of it," she nodded, continuing on her way and stopping sporadically with other guests as she examined the men her friend had pointed out. They were both tall, well-fitted tuxes revealing athletic physiques, and were clearly armed. Though they were dressed for a party, their bearing was that of military men or law enforcement officers.

Making a quick decision, she made to walk by them and bumped into the blonde one. Lifting his badge, which he'd unwisely placed in his back pocket, she let it drop to the floor. She whispered, "Shit," as she moved glasses around on the tray. Putting on an English accent, she spoke with feigned horror as she hastily grabbed a towel to give him, "Oh, I am _terribly_ sorry, sir." Hazarding a quick glance at the other man, who was watching her with careful curiosity, she lied, "My apologies, really. My first big event…I'm a bit nervous." She added a self-conscious grin and a nervous chuckle to sell the falsehood.

The blonde watched her, a large smile revealing teeth blossoming on his face, and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Jean, what's your name?"

Riza gave him an odd look, trying to ignore the chorus of laughter coming through her earpiece, and reached down to pick up the badge. As she again stood, she let it fall open to rapidly read the name, closed it, and handed it back to him. "I believe you dropped this. Again, I'm so sorry…but I should be getting back to work." He took it from her and she disappeared into the throng a moment later, despite the fact he had already started to speak.

"Ok, Sig…Special Agent Jean Havoc of the FBI…Hook me up." She walked straight back to the kitchen and deposited her tray on a metal counter, making for the janitor's closet. Unlocking it, she reached in and grabbed the purse she had brought with her.

Rebecca laughed. "Did he just try to hit on you?"

"I think so."

"His partner is Special Agent Roy Mustang…" Fuery cut-in. "Their usual team is agents Vato Falman, who is the guy in the security office, Heymans Breda, which is their tech guy, Maria Ross, who is their newbie. Tonight they have an extra named Jake Altman, who appears to be playing waiter like you."

Riza strode toward the bathroom, pausing only briefly when she heard the name Mustang, she remembered her father mentioning that name before his death. Shaking it off she grabbed a woman's suit jacket from the back of a chair and locked herself in the restroom. In the process of tearing her shirt off, placing the jacket over a black sleeveless top, and changing her glasses, she said, "I'm moving up the timetable. Freyr, take care of our kitchen friend…and leave them a nice note of greeting. Then install the transmitter outside the security office and exfil to Sig's position."

"Copy."

She slid a syringe to him under the bathroom door and then Riza left the small restroom. Walking down the hallway toward the party, she let her hair out of its ponytail, shaking it loose, and grabbed a glass of champagne, attempting to change her appearance as much as possible. Approaching Rebecca's and Grumman's position, she walked up to the other woman and held out the purse, saying, "Excuse me, but I think I saw you leave this in the bathroom."

"Oh my goodness, thank you," Rebecca said with exaggerated relief. "I was out of my mind…couldn't remember where I left it." Her responsibility that evening was to take the Apollo statuette displayed in the center of the anteroom just outside the ballroom. The purse was specially designed to carry the statue out while fooling the scanners embedded in the doorways of all entrances to the museum.

The older man added with a laugh, "My niece, always forgetting things."

"Oh, I _am not_!" The black-haired woman slapped her 'uncle's' arm in jest.

"You're welcome," Riza replied with a smile and nod. She continued on her way, passing behind Mustang and Havoc who were once more standing in front of the painting of the belly dancer. She wondered for a second if they believed she was there to steal that particular artwork. Looking around she casually strolled, viewing the various paintings, statues, and relics on display.

Fuery then added, "Security footage is looped, I've got their comm frequency, and I've got a bead on this Breda guy's system. He's looking into our signal as we speak. What do you want me to do?"

"Freya will take the Apollo, I'll take the drive...just a bit sooner. Sig, listen in on their conversation and keep me posted. Let them take our comms, we'll move to our secondary communication protocol. How much time?" She perused the gathering, keeping herself aware of Mustang's and Havoc's position as she covered her mouth with her glass. Riza slipped her phone, their secondary protocol, out of her pocket and looked at all the photos Fuery had sent her of the FBI team. She wanted to be certain that she would recognize them on sight.

"He'll have it in thirty-five seconds."

She flipped the phone shut and slipped it back into her pocket. "Alright, earpieces dirty in about twenty-five seconds…Freya, would you care to start us off?"

"I would love to." The woman paused. "Now, I've been looking around, and I believe that the head security guard has a pretty nice ass. Don't you think?"

" _Freya_ ," Riza said, feigning a reprimand with a grin. "I swear to fucking Odin that if you keep…"

"Fine, fine," Rebecca rejoined.

"But, yes, very nice ass…" She glanced around, entertained by the looks of mild confusion and amusement on the agents' faces. They would wait for the guests to trickle into the ballroom and for the event to officially begin in order to make their move. Initially, they were going to act during the latter half of the party, but she did not want to give the FBI agents too much time to get comfortable.

" _Ladies_ ," Grumman's voice broke in as he and Rebecca made a lap of the room. "How many times do I have to tell you not to take my name in vain?" Her phone buzzed and she saw a text from Fuery to the group: _All set._ She sent back: _On Odin's signal_.

There was a collective laugh, and then Rebecca began, "So sorry, Odin." She paused, taking a thoughtful breath. "Alright, first up on tonight's episode of Random Trivia: A few years ago, _Forbes_ estimated Scrooge McDuck's wealth. What was it?"

"I'll take that," Denny suddenly said, not hesitating an instant. "That would be $65.4 billion, thank you very much."

"Bravo, Freyr," Grumman congratulated him.

"Wait," Fuery interjected. "Seriously... _Why_ do you know that?"

"I have an eclectic knowledge...you should try it."

" _Very_ nice," Rebecca chimed in, stopping with Grumman to view a statue.

"Did you just watch _Ducktales_ or something?" Riza commented. She stopped at a display, using the reflection in the glass to pinpoint the agents' locations. The hope was that their trivia game would keep the FBI group slightly off balance and wondering what exactly was going on.

"What if I did?"

"Ok, cool it guys," Denny chuckled. "Next up...Name a substance that frequently appears in fiction, and is an actual term from theoretical physics."

"Me," Fuery's voice claimed it.

"Damn Sig, that barely took you a second," Grumman remarked.

" _Why_ am I not surprised you know this?" Denny joked.

"The word you're looking for is tachyon." Text from Fuery: _Falman noticed the loop. I'll keep you invisible for as long as I can._

"Not bad, Sig," Rebecca added. "I had no idea."

"Ok, my turn. What does the K.C. in K.C. and the Sunshine Band stand for? Take _that_."

"Mine," Riza softly said, pausing in her lap of the room to view a painting. "It's an abbreviation of the lead singer's last name, Casey."

"Five points to Loki," Grumman chimed in.

"How come nobody else gets points?"

Finally, when around half the attendees had filed into the ballroom, Agents Mustang and Havoc included, she received one message from Grumman: _Go_. The fire alarm system engaged, along with the sprinklers in the ballroom, and the event was chaos.

Making her way through the crowd to an elevator down the hall which Fuery kept usable, she entered and hit a button. "Remember, comms are dirty. Scatter." She removed her jacket and pulled gloves from a pocket along with a back-up comm.

"Did you say that just to fuck with them?" Rebecca asked her.

 _Fuery:_ _S_ _till invisible. They are_ _lost_ _._

"Well, we couldn't have them thinking we didn't know they were listening." Riza smirked,  
pulling on her gloves, tossing the jacket to the floor, and connecting the back-up head-set to her phone with an audio jack.

"I fucking love my job," her friend laughed. "...done and away."

The elevator dinged and she stepped out onto the top floor, largely consisting of offices for museum management. Speaking into the compromised earpiece, she said, "Alright, Sig, let's do it."

Riza removed her comm, dropped it, and crushed it with her shoe, replacing it with her headphones. Hitting a couple digits, she heard Fuery's voice, "I've frozen the elevators and locked every door I can. They just got video. This Breda isn't bad." She opened an office door and closed it behind her, making her way to the computer.

She took a seat behind the desk and pushed the CPU with her foot, angling it toward her. Slipping a flash drive from her pocket, she inserted it into one of the desktop computer's USB ports. "Drive's in."

"Tap the power button on the unit…that will start the process." After a moment he continued, "They saw you on the top floor, but not what room you went into. Agents Havoc and Mustang en route."

"Alright. I'm moving on to the safe…" When she saw it she added, "It's behind a painting, how cute."

"Ok, it's transmitting. Once all the files are transferred I'll destroy the system completely. There won't be a trace." He kept silent while she popped the safe, pressing her ear against it and focusing the majority of her attention on the barely-there clicks. Riza forced herself to breathe and remain calm when heavy footfalls could be heard from the stairwell at one end of the hallway.

She exhaled in relief when she turned the handle and the small door swung outward. Reaching inside, she pulled out a box and opened it to find an exceptionally valuable necklace resting in the velvet-lined interior. The necklace was silver, inset with a series of rubies surrounded by diamonds, with a large teardrop ruby, also framed in diamonds, hanging from the center. It was from the eighteenth century and had been a gift from King George II of England to his wife Caroline. "Hello, beautiful," she breathed, before tucking the necklace into a protective pouch sewn into her bra.

"Transfer complete," Fuery told her.

"Copy."

Riza retrieved the drive, drew the pistol she had holstered at her back, and carefully approached the door, straining her ears to try to determine the exact location of the two FBI agents. They were at the end of the hallway nearest to her position, opening doors and clearing offices. Voice quiet, she said, "I'm going radio silent. See you at the rendezvous. Do me a favor, in 30 seconds kill the lights."

"Sure thing. Be careful, Loki."

"You too, Sig."

Ever so silently, she opened the door a crack and peeked out, immediately closing her eyes to preserve her night vision and counting down until the lights would be shut off. _Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…_ Riza exhaled, slowly stood, and when the light beyond her eyelids disappeared her eyes popped open. She opened the door further, hoping there would be no creak, and saw the two men poised to enter the office across the hall. They were looking around, evidently surprised by the sudden loss of light.

With no further hesitation, she strode forward and shot the blonde agent in the leg. He fell against the wall and she kicked his gun away as she spun, grabbing the black-haired agent's wrist at a pressure point; he dropped his weapon and she threw her right elbow back into his face. With a grunt of pain he paced backward and she kicked his gun further away as well. Havoc dove for her but Riza stepped to the side and used his momentum to throw him across the hall.

Turning, she kicked Mustang in the gut, shoving him against the wall behind him, and dodged his left fist that swung toward her, landing one of her own to his side. He coughed and wrapped an arm around her, pushing off the wall and taking them both to the floor. She gave a low shout of pain as his body-weight landed on top of her and then took advantage of their interspersed limbs to knee him in the groin. "Fuck!" he rasped, hands moving protectively to his crotch. "Not…cool."

Riza rolled them over, still catching her breath. "Sorry, Special Agent Mustang. You left me little choice." She opened his jacket and tore a strip of his shirt off, rising and retrieving her firearm from the floor that had fallen from her hand. Striding toward Havoc, she tossed the strip of cloth into his lap for a bandage and said, "Don't worry, Agent Havoc, I didn't hit anything important, just grazed you."

"That so?" he asked, breathing heavily. "You seem pretty confident...I like that."

"I never miss, Agent Havoc." Her gaze shot up to the nearest stairwell when footsteps and shouts of 'Boss! Havoc!' could be heard nearing their floor. "It's been fun, boys."

Turning toward the far end of the hall, she sprinted in the direction of her only remaining possibility of escape. The voices of the other agents became louder, one gunshot rang out, and she yelled in response to the sharp pain in her upper arm. As she swung herself around the heavy metal door leading to the stairs, she saw the blood trickling down her arm. Seeing that the bullet had only grazed her, she quickly stood and slammed the double doors shut. The other agents were already in pursuit and she took the stairs up to the roof two-at-a-time, bursting through the door.

Not slowing her pace, she reached the southeast corner of the building, holstered her weapon, and grabbed a rope with her gloved hands. It was already anchored to the roof as she'd taken the time the day before to prepare this exit strategy as a precaution. Riza wrapped the rope around one thigh and over her shoulder, climbed onto the edge of the roof, and carefully lowered herself down the side. Rappelling down the building, she reached the ground and disentangled herself from the rope.

Once more running, she sprinted through the woods on the southern edge of the museum property until she reached an apartment complex parking lot. There she jumped into the car left for her earlier by Denny and drove away at a normal pace. Releasing another breath, she let her head fall back against the headrest and then removed her phone from her pocket to dial Fuery.

"I'm clear," Riza informed him, and then ended the call.

* * *

Roy leaned against the wall next to Havoc as the other members of his team returned from the stairwell. "Well?"

Maria Ross shook her head. "She got away. Sorry, Boss."

His lips formed a line and he knocked his head against the wall in anger as he ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck."

He accidentally elbowed Havoc who loudly said, " _Ouch_ …Aren't I in enough pain already?"

"Sorry." He exhaled heavily. "We were so damn close. It has to be her. She _has_ to be Loki."

"Whatever, man. I think I'm in love." The blonde's face took on a dreamy quality.

Roy chuckled and glanced at his friend's bloody leg. "I hate to say it, but I don't think she returns the sentiment."

"What do you mean?" Havoc raised his open hands in a questioning gesture. "I'm alive. _And_ she gave me a bandage…She kicked _your_ ass."

"What? She attacked us from behind, in the dark, and kneed me in the balls. Kinda cheap, if you ask me."

Actually, Boss," Falman cut in. "Logically speaking, those were intelligent actions for an individual up against two capable, armed agents with back-up on-site."

"Thanks, Falman," he replied in exasperation, looking up at his teammate.

"Yeah, Roy. Are you sure you're not just a little salty about getting your ass handed to you?" Havoc paused. "You did shoot her a little, though, so you should feel better. And I'm pretty sure it _was_ the waitress-chick. I have to give you that one."

"But I think I only grazed her."

"That's a good thing, cause this case is gonna be fun. I can feel it." He paused. "But why do you think she's Loki?"

Roy leaned his head on the wall again. "I recognized her voice when she apologized for the nut-shot…"

"See, she _apologized_. She didn't have to do that, you know," Havoc interrupted him. "And she could have just killed us, but she didn't. Just saying."

" _Anyway_ …I'm pretty sure it was Loki's voice." He paused. "I can't _believe_ they knew we were listening the entire time. I knew that couldn't be what they really talk about."

"Sorry, Boss. I don't like to admit it, but it's possible that Sig guy _let_ me take comms," Breda said over the earpiece.

"They wanted us to think we had the advantage." Roy shook his head in frustration.

"Did you get a good look at her, Boss?" Ross queried, pointedly meeting his gaze to avoid looking at the exposed chest visible between his jacket lapels and torn shirt.

"No, but Havoc definitely did when he ogled her earlier after she lifted his badge. And that was some lift she pulled…you had no idea."

"I didn't _ogle_ her," Havoc defiantly rejoined. "I was…appreciating the view. But now it totally makes sense why she ignored my attempt to break the ice. You know, what with her being a criminal and me being FBI."

"Right, because no ordinary woman would turn down Jean Havoc. It's entirely inconceivable that she might just be _uninterested_ ," Breda drily contributed.

"Bite me," Havoc articulately replied, though it was mostly drowned out by the team's laughter.

The lights came back on and an elevator on their floor dinged, admitting an EMT crew who walked in their direction. Once they ensured Havoc was stable, they placed him on a gurney and Roy called for everyone's attention. "Ross, go back downstairs and oversee the scene. Falman, examine this office...I want to know what she was doing in there. Breda, find out anything you can from security feeds and our recording of their conversation. We will meet in this idiot's…" He gestured toward his partner. "…hospital room tomorrow and discuss this case."

The group dispersed to follow his orders and he took the stairs to the roof to see how the woman had escaped. When he walked toward the southeast corner of the building, he found a heavy-duty climbing rope anchored to the roof and hanging over the side of the building. Leaning out over the edge, he could not see the end but felt it was a safe bet that it reached the ground. Over his comms he asked, "Breda…I want someone sent to the southeast corner of the roof to collect evidence, and the same corner but at ground level. Find out where she went."

"Will do, Boss."

After that, Roy returned to the first floor and strode directly toward the kitchens: it was going to be a long night, and he would need coffee.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)


	2. The Day After the Museum

**Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, or reviewed. The support is very much appreciated! I have responded to guest reviews from the first chapter at the end of this one. And now, I present the next installment of The Trickster and the Lionheart :)

* * *

 **The Day After the Museum**

Roy Mustang poured himself a cup of coffee and groaned when he noticed the time on the clock in the kitchen. He did not arrive in Washington, D.C. until 2400 hours and still had several tasks to finish, after which he went to check on Havoc, who had been taken to a military hospital in D.C. True to her word, Loki had hit nothing vital and his partner would make a full recovery. But that made him no less irritated about his friend having been shot by the thief.

He made it back to his apartment around 0200 and found an abandoned wine bottle with glasses on the table. That jogged his memory and as he iced his balls he remembered promising his girlfriend in no uncertain terms that he would _not_ miss her father's birthday dinner. And now, as he furiously stared at the clock declaring the time to be 0700, he could hear her stomping around as she got ready for work.

 _This always happens_ , he reminded himself when she joined him in the kitchen, slamming her purse on the counter with a glare firmly in place. At first, they always say they understand: your work is important, you catch crooks, I would _never_ want to get in the way of that. But inevitably, after an unfixed number of missed parties, skipped anniversaries, and forgotten birthdays, that feeling would change. He always wondered if they expected him to fall madly in love with them and morph into someone that would suddenly put birthday dinners before chasing criminals. Granted, a part of him understood the fact that his priorities did not shift at all was significant.

"Seriously, what the _fuck_ , Roy? _Again_?" Katie stared at him, pixie-cut brown hair perfectly styled, hand on her hip.

"Listen, babe, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you…" He tried his charming smile, and a grin started to quirk her lips. "…but you know I'm on a new case. And it's a big one. This could make or break my _career_." It wasn't like he could explain his obsession to _Katie_ ; she would never understand. It was difficult to tell if he was finding the wrong women, or was just a shitty guy.

"Oh yes, your career...the third member of this relationship. You've been researching this 'new' case nonstop for two months, Roy. You know more about this fucking thief than you do about me," she angrily gestured toward herself with the last word and then angrily poured coffee.

"That is not even _remotely_ true," he responded, trying to fight back an amused chuckle at the thought of how little he knew about Loki and her crew.

"What's my middle name, Roy?" Katie watched him, head cocked to the side, her face saying she believed she'd already won.

He shrugged, briefly searching the ceiling for the answer. "I don't know. Ok? But that doesn't mean shit. Do you know mine?"

"No, that's part of my point. We've been seeing each other for months, and I hardly know anything about you. It's all flirting and jokes with you…nothing serious. So I guess I should have realized. Have you even noticed that I spend most nights at my apartment anyway? The sex is great, don't get me wrong, but I don't think you realize when I leave."

 _No…it's ok…and no_ , he thought. _That probably means something_.

Katie put the lid on her to-go cup quite forcefully and looked at him again. "And, I don't know what your deal is, but you need a life. For real. Your only friends are your partner and that Interpol guy Hughes.

He sighed and said, "Look, I get it. You deserve to be with someone that makes time for you. My priority has to be work right now, and I believe I made that clear. What did you expect? That I would _change_ for you?"

"I don't know, Roy," she shrugged. "I guess I thought I'd be more interesting than a damn case file." Katie picked up her purse, along with another bag by her feet that he had not noticed before. "I have all my stuff. I won't be coming back." She exhaled. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're actually a decent guy, Roy, really. But you're fucking useless in the boyfriend department." She took a few steps away, and then something occurred to her. "Maybe you just need to find someone, I don't know…more like you…like, incapable of human emotion."

At that his mouth fell open slightly and he shook his head, hands raised in a 'what the hell' gesture. Katie was out the door with a huff before he could reply and Roy ran out the door a few minutes later when he saw the time. Jumping into his car, he took out his phone, turned it to speaker, and dialed Interpol Agent Maes Hughes' cell phone number. It rang a few times, stopped, and he said, "I am _not_ incapable of human emotion."

Maes' response was to cackle. "Katie's gone, then?"

He ran his free hand over his chin and sighed with a chuckle. "Yes." Taking a drink of his coffee he added, "But, silver lining, we found the crew. They use code-names from Norse mythology."

"You're _shitting_ me! God, I hate you sometimes. You put this case together, make breakthroughs no one else managed. Freaking golden boy." Maes had been his closest friend since childhood, and he'd lived with the Hughes family for a short time after the death of his parents. They went to the same university and had even served in the military together.

Roy laughed. "I am no golden boy…but do you want to know the kicker?"

"Hell yes. It gets better?"

"Havoc and I got a glimpse of Loki, and I think she's the leader."

"Nicely done. Any photos?"

"No, but I'm thinking we'll do a sketch." Roy sighed before gulping more liquid caffeine. "These people are _good_ , Maes. I've never seen anything like this crew."

"Well, I think we knew they had to be good. I mean, the thefts you potentially linked go back two years."

"I know. But I'm saying it called _Zeus_ to mind. As in holy shit."

"Damn. Do you think that's why you're on the case?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But since it was my team that made the connections, I would have raised hell if we _weren't_ given the case."

"Fair enough." Maes paused, and Roy heard him take a breath. "Hey, man. Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. I should have done the right thing and ended it with Katie before. I learned." Roy pulled into the parking lot and showed his badge to the security guard who then let him through.

Maes chuckled. "I'm sure you did. But that's not what I was talking about. You know what day it is, right?"

Suddenly Roy felt a familiar dread settle in the pit of his stomach and he glanced at the date that appeared on his phone. He parked the car, white-knuckling the steering wheel, and for a moment was back in his old house with his mouth open in a silent scream, eyes like saucers. The brick wall before him disappeared, and instead he saw his parents' bodies on the kitchen floor, dark red pools fanned out around their heads. He could still smell the blood, and his own shouts reverberated as if from a distance, calling their names. His initial scream must not have been so silent because then he remembered Mr. Hughes running into the house.

He never found out what really happened to them because, when he was a kid, no one told him anything. And ever since he'd been in law enforcement, the records had been sealed. Part of him feared that it would remain a mystery forever, and his other half worried about what would happen if he actually found out. It was part of what drove him in his career, however, because perhaps the more villains he put away, the fewer nine-year-olds would find their parents dead.

Maes voice slowly called him back to the present. "Roy? Hey, you still there?"

"Yeah…" He cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry. I'm here. I just dazed off for a minute."

"Shit, man. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"No, it's fine. I would have noticed the date eventually. Better now than later." He grabbed for his coffee, wishing briefly that it was spiked.

"Ok. Drinks tonight, right?" Hughes' voice still conveyed concern and apprehension, but Roy was truly glad he'd brought it up when he did.

"Yeah, definitely. Breda and I were gonna go to Bluto's."

"Wait, what's up with Havoc?"

"Oh, shit. I didn't tell you? He got shot…he's in the hospital."

"What the hell? By who?"

"By Loki."

"There is _clearly_ more of this story that I have to hear."

"I'll fill you in later. But I'm at work."

"Sounds good. See ya."

"See ya, man."

Roy exited his vehicle and strode through the garage toward the elevator, once more thinking about the case and feeling moderately better about his day. He swiped his key card over the pad and after a short elevator ride stepped into a hall that was all beige walls, glass-doored offices, and fluorescent lighting. The scent of brewing coffee filled the air and the office was already bustling with other agents. Rather than enter his own office he walked directly toward that of his boss, Gene Raven, Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division. Plopping down into a chair across the desk from the older man he greeted, "Morning, sir."

"Mornin', kid. You're looking chipper." He chuckled at something he was reading. "Last night went well?"

Roy shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure it could have gone better, but the crew was there and we got a look at one of them. So, I'm not too disappointed." His lips curved upward as he drank.

"Not bad," Raven replied as he moved papers about his desk. The man was all sharp angles, with hands the size of bear's paws and close-shorn silver hair. "We didn't know there was a crew to find until you and your team linked those unsolved thefts. Now you've proven they're out there. What else have you got?"

"It's a five-person crew, two women and three men. They use codenames based in Norse mythology: Loki, Odin, Freya, Freyr, and Sig, which I think is short for Sigurd or Sigmund. Some hi-profile thefts, some not. It's difficult to get an exact read, but I think we've found several cases that can safely be attributed to them."

"Alright. But I think your gender ratio is off, or my recollection of Norse deities is. I believe I heard the names of three gods, one hero, and one goddess."

"Oh, yes. This team's Loki is a woman."

"Ahh…the trickster," Raven chuckled as he focused his attention on a document for an instant.

"I suppose so, yes." After a sip he asked, "Sir, am I on this case because of Zeus?"

The older man set the paper down, laced his hands together on top of the desk, and watched Roy unblinking. "If I say yes, is that a problem?"

"Not at all, sir. I was merely curious. This is a major case and I appreciate the opportunity."

"Good. You figured out Zeus on your own, after only a couple years. And your team made this discovery. You earned this chance." He resumed his paper-pushing and added, "How's Agent Havoc?"

"He's fine, sir. Milking the injury for all it's worth." Roy chuckled.

"I would expect nothing less," he grinned. "I've got to make a call, kid. Nice work, and keep me posted on the case."

"Of course, sir." He nodded his head and then left the office, stopping into his own to grab a file and then returning to his vehicle.

He rolled down the windows as he left the garage, considering various routes before selecting the most efficient. Leaning his head back he exhaled, tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel as he stared ahead. He'd had to put memories of his parents on the back burner for his meeting with Raven, but now they could resurface. That intense sadness returned as he pictured them, thinking about how different his life might have been. He was grateful to the Hughes family and his Aunt for taking him in, but he missed out on so many moments with his parents. As the years passed, memories of them faded, and whenever he thought of them, the image that came to mind most quickly was that scene in the kitchen. He always felt a sharp tug in his chest because he deeply wished for a different memory of them to be at the forefront. They deserved happier recollections.

He continued to drive, letting the music relax him and approximately a half-hour later he reached the hospital. Breda had sent him a text message with the room number so he went directly to the elevator and managed to slip into a car that was just about to close. Once on the fourth floor Roy strolled down the hallway, checking the signs next to rooms as he went, and had just located Havoc's door when he collided with a nurse. His hands reflexively grasped her arms to keep her from losing balance and he felt one of her hands grab his upper arm while the other gripped the lapel of his suit jacket. "Excuse me," he began with a small smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going." He noticed she wore blue scrubs and had short, black hair.

She chuckled with a grin, one hand moving over her chest. "Whew...you startled me."

"Sorry." His laugh was slightly self-conscious.

"Oh no, sir. You're alright...I should have been paying more attention." She bent to pick up something she'd dropped. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you, I found the room I was looking for." He gestured toward Havoc's room as he spoke.

"Alright." She gave him a friendly smile. "Have a nice day."

"Thanks, you too."

He watched her for a second and then turned into the room, where he was met with Hughes' expression of amused disbelief. "She kicked your _ass_?!" His friend laughed and continued, "You failed to mention that earlier."

As he strolled further into the room, he said, "Seriously, Havoc? Are you telling _everyone_?"

"Only everyone who will listen," the patient responded, doubled over, failing to contain his mirth.

"And Maes? Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Boss, we wouldn't be true friends if we didn't throw this in your face repeatedly for at least three months." Breda turned to the man in the bed. "Right, Havoc?"

"That sounds like the minimum requirement, yes."

"Alright, alright," Roy waved them off. "Hughes, you're distracting my team, and we need to have a meeting." They shook hands and with a final wave Maes left and he turned back to his team. "Is the room clean?" He visually examined the glaringly white walls and tiled floors as he awaited a reply.

"Indeed it is," Breda replied as Maria Ross closed the door to the private hospital room. "I swept this and the two adjacent rooms…bug free."

"Good. What do we have from last night?"

"You mean, besides Havoc's deeply pathetic crush on our target?" Breda asked, laughing at their injured friend's glare. "I have some stills for you to look at and see what you think. But they looped footage pretty early so I'm not sure how much we got them on tape."

"The tactical equipment on the roof is a dead end," Ross took over. "All serial numbers are gone. The tech was able to narrow it down to a particular manufacturer, but there was no way to isolate a batch number or point of sale."

"We recovered the bullet that grazed Havoc's leg," Falman added. "The round was nothing special, and the most the ballistics analyst could determine was that it _may_ have been fired from a Smith and Wesson M &P9. Thus, nothing unique or traceable there. Both the firearm and ammo are quite common, even widely used in the FBI."

"Law enforcement or military training could make sense," Havoc nodded thoughtfully. "The way she fought…she definitely had training, and lots of practice. Also, after she apparently rappelled down the side of a building...awesome by the way...she ran to a parking lot which is where we lose her. No video surveillance."

Breda once more picked up the thread. "We don't have anything from the office yet, and the guy that works there is on his way home from a vacation in the Bahamas. He'll be able to tell us what's missing but, in the meantime, they're dusting for prints and I'll take a look at the computer."

Roy suppressed a wry snicker and stood with his hands on his hips, giving a shake of the head. "It's hard to believe they left us with so little." Pacing toward the window, he inhaled slowly. "Ok, Breda, I want you and Havoc to create a composite sketch of Loki." He turned around, his back to the window. "Run it through mug-shot, law enforcement, and military databases. And send it to Hughes so he can compare it to databases he has access to."

"Will do, Boss," Breda confirmed.

"Also, I want you to get stills of people from last night that are looking away from the camera. Looking down, to the side, hand shielding the face, whatever. Everyone else, go over all info from the scene last night and files of past thefts. Look for any similarities."

* * *

The morning after their fun at the museum, Riza relaxed in the General's safe house in the city, enjoying a warm cup of coffee along with the excellent view. She had a particularly important meeting today and had decided to spend the night in the city rather than return to their base of operations. The fact that she had such a luxurious apartment to herself for the evening was a bonus. While she loved her team, she needed time alone on occasion.

Pleased with the outcome of their mission the night before, she was not surprised that federal agents had finally found them. Over the past few years they had pulled numerous jobs and it was only a matter of time before someone put them together. She would naturally do more research, but at the outset the FBI group seemed capable. Still, she had complete faith in her team; they were the best.

It was just around 0700 as she took another drink, in the midst of turning the page in her book, when her phone buzzed. _Fuery: He just left his apartment._ She responded with a quick ' _Thanks_ ' and then drained her coffee, cleaning up her breakfast before moving into her bedroom. Riza showered and got ready, covering her hair with a black wig and dressing in a set of blue scrubs she'd taken the time to borrow from the hospital the night before. By the time she'd driven to the facility where Agent Havoc had been taken she received another update. _Fuery: He's nearly there._

She approached the building, clipping a borrowed ID badge to her scrub top and once inside grabbed a clipboard. As she took the stairs up to the fourth floor she placed a small, adhesive listening device between two fingers of her left hand. At the door she carefully looked through the window, a pleased smirk on her features when she saw Agent Mustang rounding the corner from the bank of elevators. Perfect timing.

Riza exited the stairwell, moving quickly and looking like nothing more than a hospital employee hard at work. She jotted a few meaningless things down before 'accidentally' running into Agent Mustang just outside of Agent Havoc's room. The clipboard fell to the floor and she let her balance falter so he would catch her. When he grabbed her arms, her right hand grasped his arm while her left deftly attached the listening device to his lapel. She had the thought that it would be fun to lift something of his: like his badge, or his wallet, for instance. But she resisted the temptation.

"Excuse me," he said, keeping a hold of her until she was steady. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

She grinned widely and gave a laugh, placing one hand on her chest as if recovering from a surprise. "Whew...you startled me."

He smiled somewhat self-consciously and accompanied it with a chuckle. "Sorry."

"Oh no, sir. You're alright...I should have been paying more attention." She bent to pick up the clipboard and then looked at him. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you, I found the room I was looking for." He pointed a thumb at the room nearest them, which she knew to be Agent Havoc's.

"Alright." She smiled again and gave a small wave. "Have a nice day."

"Thanks, you too."

She walked away and laughed to herself when, from within the room, she heard someone loudly say, "She kicked your _ass_?!" Riza continued to distance herself from the room and returned directly to her car, depositing the clipboard on a random counter along the way. On the way out of town, her phone buzzed again. _Fuery: Device transmitting perfectly._ After a forty-five minute drive she reached a nature preserve and found a secluded parking space. Grabbing her tea and her bag, she followed the agreed-upon trail, feeling the damp chill that hung in the air.

She strolled for fifteen minutes, relieved to find little foot traffic present on the trail. The silence was comforting, and at the same time almost eerie as innumerable trees rose around her like sentinels. Not a breeze disturbed the forest calm, and the only audible noise was the crunch of her shoes meeting the dirt trail. Riza focused on the lake up ahead and did not start when running footfalls came from behind.

Her long-time friend Olivier Armstrong, Director of Counterintelligence for the CIA, fell into step beside her, re-securing her long golden strands with a hair tie. Her ice-blue eyes found Riza's mocha browns for an instant and she asked, "Are we clear?"

"It's the strangest thing, but any cameras maintained by this park seem to be having some technical difficulties at the moment," she replied, bringing her mug to her curved lips.

"How odd," Olivier rejoined with a smirk, mirth carrying in her voice. "And based on my phone you're carrying a signal jammer as well."

"I suppose you're right, I'm too cautious."

"As your friend, I'd say you are. But as your handler, it's one of my favorite things about you." She examined her out of the corner of her eye. "Did you make a career change since we last spoke?"

Riza chuckled, glancing down at the scrubs she still wore. "No, I had to plant a bug on someone at a hospital and didn't stop to change." They reached the lake and began to follow the shoreline along the curving body of water. Riza reached into a jacket pocket and produced the USB drive she'd taken from the office at the museum, handing it to Olivier. "The system we found the files on was destroyed…it will look like a virus from a porn site. The files were limited to that system on a hidden partition and, as far as I can tell, no information had yet been sold."

"Good," the other woman replied. "I have other people bringing the man in for questioning. We know who he was working for but we need to find out if there are any more individuals in the network already stateside." After taking a deep breath she added, "And good work with the files. Had those gotten into anyone else's hands…"

"Bad news."

"Precisely." She nodded, looking out over the lake. "Any complications?"

"Nothing we can't handle. There's an FBI agent that's linked some of the jobs we've pulled…he and his team were at the museum. They saw me near the office, but they don't know what we were really after and won't be able to find me." She wrapped her hands around her tea to warm them as she watched the mostly calm surface.

"Alright. Keep me posted. If you need anything…" They glanced at each other.

"Thank you. But we'll do our best not to." Riza paused to take a sip. "Would you like to hear the icing on the cake?" Seeing Olivier's reluctant nod, she continued, "The FBI agent that's on our tail is the same one that discovered my Dad…I recalled my father talking about him."

"Well, _that's_ interesting. I can't say I expected that."

She chuckled. "Neither did I." She then asked, "Do you have anything else for me?"

"Not right now, but I will soon."

"Sounds good. How are things?"

"Not bad. The same as usual, honestly. Meetings, dealing with _people_ …I miss the field."

"We miss you too," Riza replied with a nudge to her friend's side. "What happened with that guy? Ya know…tall, muscly, sandy brown hair…he was a lawyer or something."

"Oh, right. He was…great. But I've realized that normal men are boring for me. If I know I can beat them to a pulp without breaking a sweat I'm just not interested." She shrugged a shoulder. "So, we'll see."

"Good luck," she laughed.

"Oh, FYI, I _am_ looking into another arms dealer. He calls himself the Duke…it's most likely one of the jobs I'll be having for you in the near future."

"Alright. We'll be pulling a few retrievals in the meantime…to conserve our cover, of course."

"Of course." Olivier turned to face her and handed her a small bag of a material similar to velvet. "Your payment. Untraceable, as usual." She took another deep breath, a modest smile breaking onto her features. "I'm off…have to get to work." She stretched. "We'll be in touch. It was nice seeing you, Riz."

"Thanks, Liv. You too...and have fun," she told her friend, tucking the bag into a secure pocket.

"I always do." With a final shared grin, the other blonde was gone, running up the trail at a speed that would be extremely challenging for anyone else.

Riza waited a few minutes and then turned to follow the trail back to the parking lot. Just before reaching it, she tossed the car keys with one gloved hand into the trees. From the edge of the woods, she surveyed the sparsely occupied lot before her until she found the vehicle she was looking for and strode toward it.

Once there, Riza opened the front passenger door and took a seat, throwing her bag in the back and fastening her seat-belt in the process. Glancing at the driver, she smiled in greeting and said, "Hey Bec. We're good to go…I wiped down the other car."

"Hey," her friend replied, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the space, directing the car toward the road. "Have a nice night?"

"It was relaxing, yes. And you?"

"Quiet. Everyone is accounted for…But the old man already jetted off to some unknown, and I assume remote, locale." She turned the steering wheel, leaving the park in favor of the road beyond.

"He has a habit of doing that. He'll be back…" She took a sip. "I could use a trip myself."

"That he does, and so could I." Her friend glanced at her, mischievous smirk blossoming on her face. "We could disappear in Brazil for a little while…I mean, my birthday _is_ coming up."

"I'm in."

"Good, we're leaving tomorrow. I already called to have the jet ready."

Riza chuckled. "I didn't realize you'd already made plans…but I'm in."

"Oh, we've been monitoring the bug you placed on Mustang. We listened to their meeting in the hospital. They don't know anything, but we'll keep observing until the device dies...or is found. Is there another job for us?"

"Not yet. Probably in a few weeks, so we have plenty of time for Brazil."

"That's good. Whatever will we do there?"

Smiling, she responded, "I can think of an item or two we might acquire." The two women shared a pleased, and slightly sly, grin.

* * *

A couple hours later, Riza strolled into their safe-house and home-base along with Rebecca, dropping her bag at the foot of the stairs. It was a three-story domicile situated on an ocean front property along Virginia's coast. Their base was secluded, at a sufficient distance from any neighbors, and in an area that happened to be populated by the wealthy that enjoyed their privacy. In addition, there were sensors and other security measures located at strategic points throughout the property. The area surrounding the house was largely wooded, save the beachfront, and as she walked through the kitchen to the open family room she noticed the ocean looked a steely gray.

She paused for a moment behind Fuery, who was playing a video game on his impressive computer set-up, giving him a smile when he glanced at her. He returned the silent greeting and nodded his head in thanks when she placed a package on his desk that had arrived for him, likely containing the bubble gum which he ordered in bulk. She half removed his headphones to say, "Becca and I are going to Brazil tomorrow if you'd like to join."

"Maybe…" His head tilted thoughtfully as he considered the invitation. "I'll let you know."

Riza nodded and then walked to the bar at one end of the room, pouring two glasses of chardonnay for herself and Rebecca. As they took seats in the screened-in sunroom, the sea breeze drifting lazily through, she asked, "Did Fuery keep a copy of the files?"

Rebecca took the proffered glass and sipped, replying, "Of course. You never know what might be useful, right?"

"Right," she dipped her head in agreement. "I thought you said everyone was accounted for. Where's Denny?"

"Oh, he went off to see that girl he drops in on occasionally. Stacey or something."

"That was fast." She took a sip, savoring the delightfully dry wine with hints of citrus and vanilla.

"I don't think they've been able to meet for a while." After a drink she added, "She gave you our payment?"

Riza bobbed her head. "I'll have grandfather contact his friend when he returns from his impromptu vacation." She handed the small bag to the brunette who opened it, letting a small pile of exquisite diamonds fall onto her palm like glittering raindrops.

"I _never_ get tired of these." A soft giggle escaped her as she returned the gems to the fabric bag. They clinked glasses, their toast to a successful job, and settled back to watch the storm roll-in over the water. "So…these things we could acquire…?"

"Mmm…Yes. In Brazil there's a painting, and then I was thinking Santiago, L.A., and Paris…to name a few."

"I do love Paris. What will be there?"

"Well, I thought soon we'd pay a visit to a Duke friend of mine."

Rebecca glanced at her, eyes somewhat wider than usual. "Wait, _the_ Duke? That's what our next target might be?"

"Yes."

"I would _love_ to take that ass-hat down."

"I didn't think you'd mind." Riza chuckled, noticing the water was getting a bit rougher.

"Well, the entitled prick has been supplying terrorist organizations."

"I know. And I've heard he's started dealing in information as well."

"Which makes him of interest to our department." Her friend's pleasure at the turn of events was clear in her voice.

"Exactly."

* * *

 **AN:** Hello! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

Responses to guest reviews (in order of posting):

Guest: I'm glad to hear you liked the first chapter, and I hope you like the update!

Hermit Crab: I'm so happy to hear it was fun to read! I really enjoyed writing their banter.

Guest: I'm having so much fun with this AU, so I'm glad it's caught your interest.


	3. The Paris Job

**Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

 **AN** : Hello everyone! Just a heads up, responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this one. And now, part three!

* * *

 **The Paris Job** (A Few Weeks Later)

It was mid-afternoon on a sunny Friday and Roy was leaning over his desk finishing paperwork. His jacket hung on the back of his chair and he'd rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, compensating for the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the office window. He was starting to feel the strain in his neck, but ignored it as he put a finishing touch on a report covering the counterfeiting ring his team had shut down.

Even as he closed other cases, the Loki investigation clawed at the back of his mind and he searched constantly for what they may have missed. Oh, how he wanted to put that team away after they'd had two years to work unchecked. If he did, it might mean the promotion that would give him the clearance to read his parents' file.

Unfortunately, there had been few developments in the Loki case over the past month. The group had done one more job they knew of during that time in Los Angeles, California. In that instance, Roy and his team only managed to arrive after the fact, examine the scene, and determine what happened. It appeared that the crew was able to pull a job and then disappear, seemingly into thin air.

His own team sent feelers out regarding a thief called Loki to various contacts he and his agents possessed, but had received no information regarding the robbery. They'd only managed to find the group in Baltimore after endlessly studying the past thefts, identifying possible targets, and selecting the most likely. In short, it was intelligent investigation with a sprinkling of luck.

Roy was unavoidably aggravated by the sheer versatility of the crew, which made it difficult to make better predictions of their moves. Unfortunately, there would likely be more thefts, if only because they simply needed more _data_. It seemed that each member was master of a surprising number of skills, which meant they could complete a wide variety of operations. And they could not stake out _every_ potential crime scene.

The composite sketch of the woman turned out to be useless, and according to fingerprints found on the office safe she was George Clooney. Needless to say, having actually been on top of her for a short time, he doubted that. Even more surprising was that his friend Hughes could not find her in any Interpol database. According to technology, she did not exist, had simply never been caught, or happened to live completely off the grid. He was very seriously considering calling in some favors and trying to have the image run through fancy CIA databases, but that was a long shot.

Then a couple weeks ago, much to his irritation, he found a listening device affixed under the lapel of one of his suit jackets. The instant he saw it he recalled running into that 'nurse' in the hospital the day after they worked the museum. What with everything going on that day he had been lax, and he mentally chastised himself for it. _Okay, Loki. Point to you_. The device had already run out of power when he found it, but Breda recognized the bug and contacted one of his many technologically savvy friends who 'knew a guy' in Paris. At that point he brought Hughes in to make the investigation a joint effort between the FBI and Interpol. The waiting had begun.

He took a drink of water and raked a hand through his hair to move it out of his face, eyes focused on the document he was about to sign. When his phone rang he lifted the receiver to his ear, answering crisply, "Mustang."

"Hey, I've gotten word from my Interpol buddies," Hughes informed him.

Roy's eyes shot upward. "Hit me."

"According to the supplier of that little bug, his customer will be in Paris tomorrow."

"Do we have an ID? Or know the target?"

"Not yet, but I called Breda and had him start looking into what's happening in Paris during that time-frame."

"Good. Pack a bag. We're going to Paris."

"I could _not_ be more in...But I have to call Gracia, so if I don't show up, it's because I'm dead."

He chuckled, picking up speed on his paperwork. "Oh, come on, you drama queen. She won't kill you…she'll understand."

"Yeah, she's pretty great. You know she…"

"I know, man," Roy interrupted what would have been a long-winded ode to Mrs. Hughes. "Yours is the best wife to have ever existed."

"Do I detect a note of sarcasm? If so, it's not appreciated. I _will_ tell Gracia, and then she'll make you come for dinner when we get back." He could hear the smugness in his friend's voice, as if eating a well-cooked meal was actually a form of punishment.

"No sarcasm at all, my friend," Roy smiled. "I'll have Havoc text you the details once we find a ride."

"Thanks," he replied. Thoughtfully he added, "Ahh, going abroad...catching bad guys. Or bad ladies, in this instance. This will be fun."

"Please try to contain your enthusiasm." He signed page after page, the cramp in his hand making him wish he had one of those signature stamps.

"No, seriously. This Loki case is intriguing."

"I know, and _I'm_ serious," he chuckled. "Sometimes your enthusiasm scares my team."

"Noted…but no promises."

"Of course."

"Later," Hughes responded, ending the call and no doubt already calling his wife.

Roy disconnected the call and dialed Havoc's number, listening to it ring a few times. A pleased grin blossomed on his face as he thought, _Okay, Loki. Point to_ _me_.

"Havoc."

"Hey, man. I need a flight. We're going to Paris…tonight."

Havoc laughed. "You're joking, right?"

"Not even a little." He had a good feeling about their trip and could not stop smiling. They were going to catch her, he just knew it.

"Not that. I mean I was just gonna call to tell _you_ we have to go to Paris."

He looked up from his desk surprised. "What?"

"Yeah, I got news from one of my contacts...Loki's crew is gonna hit the Louvre during an exhibit opening on Saturday."

"No shit." The Louvre was a major target, and he would thoroughly enjoy throwing a wrench into the thief's plans.

"Shit yeah." Havoc chuckled at his own joke.

"And this contact is reliable?" The thieves they were chasing seemed to be several moves ahead of them and he wanted to be certain the information was legitimate. He wanted to make sure they would catch the team unawares.

"Yeah, he's been a CI of mine off and on for years."

He nodded. "Alright. That gives me a bit more confidence in the intel."

"Yeah, he's as solid as a criminal can be." His friend paused, and he could hear the quiet clicks of a keyboard in the background. "Okay, I found a plane leaving tonight...wheels up at 1900."

"Get us on it."

"Will do. I'll inform the others."

"I want you, Breda, and Hughes for this…the others will stay here. Maes will be our liaison, but I don't want to piss the French off because we look like we're trying to take over."

"Good point. I'll send you all the details."

"Thanks."

"See ya."

Roy still grinned as he worked, suddenly feeling rather optimistic about the case. More so than he'd felt since they first connected the dots on all those unsolved thefts over the past few years. They could do this; those bastards would go to jail, and he would receive that promotion.

He momentarily wondered what his old partner would have thought about him taking down a thief like Loki, but quickly shook it off. His first partner was Special Agent Berthold 'The Hawk' Gavilán, not to mention his mentor and close friend. The man had trained him, showed him the ropes, and he had even told the Hawk about his parents: how they died, how he frequently saw flashes of when he found them, that it was a theft gone wrong, that he'd always wondered if that was true. Roy was justly dumbfounded when he discovered that the man was also none other than Zeus, the infamous and prolific thief. Gavilán had been brazen enough to attempt to steal a weapon, codenamed The Philosopher's Stone, right from under the FBI's nose. He died that night, killed by an unknown assailant after having shot Roy when he realized what was going on.

Shaking his head, he glanced at the upper right-hand drawer of his desk where he kept a unique medallion given to him by Berthold. His one-time partner had tossed it to him, with the strange words, "Make sure she gets this," just before shooting him. He never understood why they man would give him something before putting a bullet in him. Still, Roy had combed all records he could obtain without finding evidence that Berthold had any family or close friends. He kept the necklace as a reminder that he should be incredibly careful who he trusted.

And to this day, whenever he thought of the incident, it struck him as odd. Weapons had never been Zeus' style, and he was far too intelligent to try to rob a secure government facility with several FBI teams on site. He had always found something to be slightly off, but then he'd recall being shot and the anger would resurface.

Forcing his attention back to his work, he took another drink of water and hurried to finish up after another glance at the clock. Once done, he stood with a smile and gathered his effects, thinking that this was going to be a fantastic trip.

* * *

A couple days later, Roy sat at the hotel bar in Paris, thoroughly perplexed by the distinct lack of Loki and her crew at the Louvre event earlier that evening. He took a swig of beer and set it down on the dark bar-top with a bit more vigor than necessary, releasing a heavy sigh.

"We'll figure out what happened, Roy," Maes encouraged from his left, sipping his own drink.

"We had the intel...what the _hell_ is going on?" He momentarily caught his reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles and noticed how exhausted he looked, which likely made his irritation more acute.

Their plane had touched down in Paris at approximately 0400 their time, which meant that in their current location it was 1000. Roy tried his utmost to sleep during the flight, but that was never one of his greatest talents, especially on a military cargo plane. Thus, with a stiff neck and much in need of coffee, he disembarked with Havoc, Breda, and Hughes. Their first stop was the Parisian Interpol office, where Hughes established their presence and met with an agent he'd already spoken to about their arrival.

After catching some rest at the hotel they had dressed and gone to the party, fully prepared to stop a theft. Only as the night progressed...nothing happened. Breda, working from the hotel close by, found no evidence of a comm frequency. He also was comparing their sketch of Loki to every single person in that museum. No matches were found.

"We can go over the list of guests again, look a little more closely," Maes added optimistically. "It's possible we missed them."

"No," he shook his head. "They checked everything at the museum and nothing was reported missing." After another swig he gestured with the bottle, "We've been on their trail. They could have fed us the Louvre information to throw us off."

"And they would just happen to know who Havoc's contact was?" Maes dubiously asked, toying with his rum and coke.

"Why not?" Roy grumbled with a shrug. "There's a reason they went unnoticed for so long…they're skilled." And that fact was starting to vex him further.

"True, but _you_ noticed what no one else did. So think, if they're in Paris, what might they hit?"

He looked at his friend, wracking his brain. On impulse, he took out his cellphone and dialed the number for the hotel room they were using for a base. When it was answered, he said, "Breda, find out if any other high profile or unique event or item is in Paris right now. Keep your eyes open, it could be anything."

"Alright, Boss. I'll let you know what I find."

"Thanks." At the instant he replied, someone walked past his chair, brushing against him lightly in the crush of bodies. As he turned to look, he caught the mild scent of lavender and saw it was a woman. The room was dark, so he could not see her well, but he noticed a slim, fit frame. Dark eyes found his gaze and she uttered a soft, 'Pardon' in French, giving him a small, not quite coy smile. He felt his own lips curving in return and, as she walked away, he saw that blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder. As his eyes followed the slope of her back he discerned the hint of a tattoo near her right shoulder blade, where her top dipped slightly.

Roy's gaze lingered for a moment where she disappeared into the crowd before returning his attention to his friend, who was commenting, "I've never seen a hotel bar so busy."

"Me either. But the Louvre did just have a big event." He tasted his beer again, glancing at the mirror behind the bar to scan the room, and suddenly his lips formed a line as he shook his head. " _Son_ of a bitch." He quickly checked his pockets and felt over his shirt for anything planted before spinning in his seat to search his jacket. When he found nothing, he grabbed Hughes' coat and gave it the same treatment.

"Roy? What the hell?" His friend was watching him like he'd just lost his sanity entirely.

"Check your pockets and clothes, man." Roy stood, feeling his pants pockets and examining the bar, the floor nearby, anywhere something could have been left for him to find.

"What am I looking for?"

"A bug, a phone, a snarky note, a tiny vial of poison...I don't know, anything."

Maes gave him a puzzled look and stood as well to better access various parts of his person. "Do you mind explaining just what the fuck is going on?"

"Hold on." When he was sure nothing was there, he turned to search the crowd, though he knew that if the woman had dropped anything on them she was already gone. After one last survey of the room he resumed his seat, taking a disappointed swig. "Dammit...Sorry, Maes. Someone brushed past me and I thought they might have planted something."

"Well, after you found that bug I can't blame you. But I didn't find anything."

"Me either." He shrugged, raising his beer bottle again. "Maybe I'm getting paranoid." He certainly felt paranoid, now that he was using the mirror to constantly scan the bar. If the woman came back, they would have a little chat.

"No, you're learning from past experience, keeping an eye out. That's a good thing."

"I guess you're right." He paused, trying to quell his anger and take the suspicion down to a normal level. "Anyway...you were saying?"

"I was? Oh, right, I was gonna say that I wish I could have brought Gracia. She would love Paris."

"Probably," he assented. "Except for the work part. Take her on a second honeymoon or something." Maes and Gracia were freakishly great together as well as wonderful people; they deserved a vacation.

"That's not a bad idea. When we got married we couldn't afford a big trip." With a raised glass he added, "You're not too bad, Roy."

"I can give advice, I just can't follow it for shit." As evidenced by his ridiculous love life.

"Don't I know it," Maes agreed. "That girl in college…Emily? I _told_ you to run screaming in the opposite direction." His friend pointed at him with his drink to punctuate the admonition, eyebrows so far raised they were practically joining forces with his hair.

Roy chuckled. "Yes, you did. But I didn't listen."

"No, you didn't. And she set your goddamn car on fire."

"Never a dull moment," he laughed with a shrug.

"I think you need someone _much_ less interesting than that...with the crazy dialed way down."

"You're one to talk. You are at least mildly psychotic when it comes to Gracia."

"Now you're just being mean," Maes retorted, feigning indignation before changing the subject. "So, now that I'm officially on the Loki case, what will our next move be?"

"There are some thefts in various countries I'd like you to look at that I believe can be attributed to Loki." He paused. "There are quite a few that I have a hunch on, but there's so little evidence we'll never be sure." His phone rang and he held up a hand to his friend to apologize for the interruption. "Yeah, Breda, what do you have?"

"Here's what I found most interesting: a private collection of Egyptian antiquities, a shipment of valuable and rare gems arriving at a premier jeweler's _tonight_ , and some rich kid that calls himself the Duke has three 17th century rings going up for auction tomorrow. This last one I find particularly interesting because, based on the Interpol file on him, he is also suspected of dabbling in arms dealing."

Roy thought for a moment. "See what else you can find out about the Duke…that sounds just like our girl's type. Several of their marks have been crooks."

"Yes, sir."

He ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket saying, "Sorry about that….anyway." He held up a hand to order another drink as the bartender approached, watching as the patron next to him handed the barman a phone. His French was rusty, but it seemed like the customer had found the phone in their jacket pocket, and Roy's eyes narrowed.

"So, these jobs you want me to look into, they contain similarities that you believe mean it was the same crew?"

"Correct," Roy replied, returning his attention to the bartender when the phone began to ring, the opening guitar riff from Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition' just audible over the bar's music. He and Maes shared a look, watching to see what happened.

The barman looked at it oddly, and then shrugged. "Allô?" The man's brow furrowed and he began to scan the patrons sitting at the bar. He stopped on Roy and lowered the phone to ask, "T'appelles-tu Roy Mustang?"

He eyed him and then nodded, curiosity and indignation fighting for dominance since something _had_ been left for him, he just did not find it. "Yeah, that's me."

"It is for you, sir."

The man's accent was heavy, but he was still able to understand. He took the proffered phone and shared another look with Hughes before greeting the caller curiously. "Hello?"

He waited until an instant later a woman's voice said, "Are you enjoying your trip to Paris, Agent Mustang?" The voice sounded friendly and conversational.

His eyes flew up to Maes when he recognized the speaker and he covered the microphone to whisper, "It's her." This was an unexpected move on her part, and he felt a jolt of satisfaction since it meant they'd been getting close.

"Loki, how kind of you to call," he smoothly responded, throwing money down for their drinks before he and Hughes grabbed their jackets and raced for the elevators to find Breda. "My trip has been…educational," he continued. "And yours?" He wanted to keep her on the phone, hoping that they might be able to locate her. They reached the bank of elevators, jumping into one just as the doors were closing.

"Oh, you know," she casually replied. "Late breakfasts in cafés, shopping, the usual. We're sorry we missed you at the Louvre. And after you came all this way."

He chuckled as the doors finally opened on their floor after what seemed like an eternity, and they sprinted toward the room. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure we'll find each other." He heard a light laugh from her end. Covering the mic once more, he whispered to Breda, "Trace this call, it's her, and get that Duke's address. I want people over there asap."

"By the way, how _is_ Agent Havoc? Fully healed I hope." Her interest in his partner's condition sounded genuine, and that surprised him.

He responded, "He's in great shape, thank you for asking. Speaking of, I'm a little pissed that you shot my friend." While he spoke, he waved off Havoc's whisper of, 'I think she likes me.'

"Only a little." He thought he discerned a smile in her voice.

"On that subject, I hope _my_ bullet didn't hurt you too badly." Breda handed him a hastily scrawled note: _She's at the Louvre._ Looking up, he mouthed, 'Let's go.' Hughes held up his own phone to indicate that he would call his Interpol contact in that city to have law enforcement converge on that location.

* * *

Riza glanced down at her other phone when the screen lit upon the arrival of a text message. Fuery: _On their way to Breda_. She grinned as she slid herself underneath the grand piano in a fashionable Parisian mansion. It was owned by an extremely spoiled young Frenchman who enjoyed calling himself the Duke. She had the thought that he likely did not even play the piano.

"Oh, you know," she replied, wearing earbuds connected to a burner phone. "Late breakfasts in cafés, shopping, the usual. We're sorry we missed you at the Louvre. And after you came all this way." She simultaneously removed a portion of the false bottom of the instrument to reveal a relatively thin lock-box concealed therein.

He chuckled, and she could hear movement on his end of the call. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure we'll find each other." His voice was pleasantly deep, and he kept it well controlled despite everything that was likely happening around him.

"By the way, how _is_ Agent Havoc? Fully healed I hope." Riza slipped a lock-picking set from her pocket as Rebecca lay next to her and whispered, "They're tracing the call." She nodded that she understood.

"He's in great shape, thank you for asking. Speaking of, I'm a little pissed that you shot my friend." She could vaguely hear the whispers of his team in the background, and his voice was now tinted with anger.

"Only a little." She jiggled the tools in the lock, waiting to find certain grooves, and Rebecca nudged her, mouthing something to which she responded with a shake of her head.

"On that subject, I hope _my_ bullet didn't hurt you too badly." There was increased activity around him after that, and she assumed they'd identified her location as the museum. This was confirmed hardly an instant later by a text from Fuery: _They're heading to the Louvre_.

"No lasting harm done. It was only a flesh wound." She laughed as Rebecca nudged her once more and added, "Freya would like you to know that you have an incredibly sexy phone voice." Riza glanced at her friend, eyebrows raised, as the lock clicked open. In fluid synchronization, she opened the box and the other woman fit a small object in a groove to complete the circuit before the alarm was triggered.

He laughed again, and she could hear the amusement in his voice when he said, "Ahh, thank you, I guess."

"Freya likes to share her opinions." She began removing the Duke's accounting books for his arms dealing business from the box, along with a few valuable rings about to go up for auction. Meanwhile, Rebecca checked her watch and at an established time started a song playing on her phone, which Mustang and his men would also happen to hear at the Louvre. Fuery: _They're searching the Louvre._

"Clearly." He paused, continuing incredulously, "Are you listening to _Journey_? During a robbery?"

"Ooh...five points to our fearless pursuer," Riza rejoined with a grin. "But it's _alleged_ robbery, if you don't mind, and if you can name the song I'll give you five more." She closed the now empty lock-box and secured it as Rebecca packed the newly retrieved items into a bag.

"You don't think you're a bit overconfident?" His exasperation was more evident, and she began to hear the song from his side of the call along with footfalls as they surrounded her presumed position.

"Perhaps…but then, things aren't always as they seem, Agent Mustang." Riza replaced the false bottom and gathered the tools she had used, returning her lock-picking set to her pocket.

"Shit," he sighed in annoyance. "It's a fucking phone. You've been toying with me."

"Yes…unfortunate, but necessary." Her team had set up this little ploy since Agent Mustang had proven to be unexpectedly resourceful, and intuitive. First they'd found out about Paris and then, when nothing happened at the Louvre they started looking into the Duke. A distraction had become necessary. She eyed her watch, counting down until she would have to end the call to avoid their true location being discovered. "You knew we would be in Paris, we had to improvise…This is where I leave you, Agent Mustang. I've enjoyed our chat."

Ending the call before they could trace it, she removed the battery from the phone for good measure. While she extricated herself from underneath the instrument, Rebecca commented, "He'll be _ticked_ if he finds out you're the one that dropped the phone on him."

Riza laughed. "I doubt he'll ever know." She straightened a few items, ensuring nothing was out of place. "Anyway, what is it you always tell me?"

"That you have the lightest hands in the business," the brunette resignedly supplied, still giving her a look. "I suppose outside help would have been an unnecessary risk."

"Don't worry. Other than to meet my eyes for a second, his were not focused on my face." She recalled how fatigued he'd looked at the bar, and that his eyes were so dark she could not even determine their color. After a quick survey of the room she added, "Do we have everything?"

"Yes," her friend replied as they moved everything back into its rightful place. The Duke would  
be arriving at his Paris home in several hours, and they wanted to be certain that he would have no idea anyone had been there until it was too late.

"We'd better move. He probably already sent people our way."

"Very true. I'm ready."

"So am I."

The two women exited onto a patio, silently closing the door behind them. They navigated the petite lawn until reaching the stone wall that surrounded the historic property, which they scaled. Two sets of boots found purchase in the alley beyond, and Riza met her friend's gaze for an instant when sirens could be heard. The police were closer than they liked.

"What do you think?" Rebecca asked, keeping her voice low. "We could commandeer a vehicle."

"I think we could more easily disappear on foot. There's a popular shopping and dining area a couple streets over."

With a shared nod they made for another alley, maintaining a casual pace to avoid arousing suspicion. They did what they could to blend in before reaching the line of shops quickly, finding the street busy with diners, evening shoppers, and people simply out for a stroll. Careful to avoid cameras, the pair meandered with the crowd, finally stopping to hail a cab and take their seats in the back.

When the phone in her pocket buzzed, she removed it and held it so Rebecca could see the screen as well. Fuery _:_ _They arrived at the Duke's mansion. How the hell did they figure that out?_

She and her friend both shrugged lightly as she responded: _We're clear. He's_ _good..._ _got a feel for us somehow. ETA_ _15_. There were innumerable possible targets in Paris at any given time and she had to give Agent Mustang points for selecting the Duke. In Baltimore she thought the FBI team had been lucky, but tonight had to be instinct on his part paired with what was at least a decent knowledge of her teams past missions. _Very clever, Agent Mustang_.

Overall, she got the impression that their adversary was well-aware of his looks and of the fact that he was a talented agent. Despite that, rather than the over-confident mien she'd expected, that night she'd discerned no haughtiness. He actually seemed discouraged, like he cared deeply about what he did, and she briefly wondered what drove him.

Riza was still watching the lights of Paris flit by when her phone vibrated in her hand.

Rebecca Catalina: _So, our hotel? Or theirs? ;_ _)_

She shook her head and chuckled. _Are you really texting me right now? I'm sitting right here._

RC: _I'm being covert...thought you'd like it. We should do the hide-in-plain-si_ _ght_ _thing. They'll never look for us at their hotel._

RH: _No, we stick with the one across the street._ Becca gave her a sad puppy look.

RC: _Come on. It just takes the fun up a notch, ya know?_

RH: _No._

RC: _We just had a really nice evening. Why are you so bitchy?_

RH: _Why are you so annoying?_

RC: _I'm not annoying, I'm persistent._

RH: _Oh, good. I love the semantic nuance game._

RC: _I know! Me too!_

Laughing, Riza returned her phone to her pocket and paid the driver when he stopped at the address they had given him. The women found the sidewalk and strolled in the direction of their hotel, which was two blocks south and three east. She inhaled deeply, relishing being back in Paris and looking forward to enjoying the city now that their work was done.

* * *

Roy stormed into his hotel room, still seething and finally able to let it out. Not only had the Louvre been a dead end, but by the time the police had reached the Duke's mansion, no one was there. Throwing his phone down on the hotel bed he moved to stare out the window, furious with himself for having fallen for Loki's trick. Leaning on the sill, he stared out at the city and shook his head, disappointed in himself. He wanted it too badly and should have slowed down to think about the situation more carefully. For starters, he should have sent officers to the mansion at the same time they went to the museum. He fucked up.

He could almost hear the Hawk's voice in his head: _Y_ _ou know better,_ _Roy. You've got a brain...use it, goddamit_. He certainly ought to have known better and his mistake cost them.

"Well played, Loki," he muttered to himself. "Well fucking played."

* * *

 **AN** : Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

Response(s) to guest review(s):

123: Glad to hear you came back to check out chapter two, and that you liked it. Thanks for reading!


	4. Paris: La deuxième partie

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello! Responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this one. Now, on to the chapter :)

* * *

 **Paris: La deuxième partie**

The next morning, as she prepared for their departure, Riza reviewed the events of the previous day and determined she was satisfied with the outcome. Admittedly, it concerned her that Agent Mustang had managed to pinpoint their target, but she had resources the group of FBI agents could never dream of. They would keep a closer eye on the agents, take a few more precautions, and keep their wits about them. She had a great deal of faith in her own team; they had never met a problem they could not overcome.

Truth be told, their little game of cat and mouse was not without its fun. It was simple fact that Mustang was intelligent, and Riza harbored a certain amount of respect for him, aware that he and his team had connected several of her group' past jobs. That was no easy feat. Unfortunately for the FBI agents, her crew could simply disappear if they got too close.

As she carried her bag out into the living room Rebecca's question broke into her thoughts. "So, Kain, what do you wanna do today?" It was his birthday, and they were taking him to see the sights of Paris since he'd never before had the chance.

"Just don't let Becca decide where we eat...she's horrible at picking restaurants," Riza cut in, slipping on her shoes and avoiding the piece of fruit that shortly thereafter flew toward her head.

"Hey, now." Fuery pointed at their brunette friend. "Don't forget, Bec, that you've been banned from starting food fights." He was eating breakfast while packing his equipment and performing some last minute surveillance on the FBI agents across the street. They needed to verify Mustang and company's plans to ensure they had a perfect window during which to leave.

"That's right," she confirmed. "Ever since the London debacle." She took a bite of fruit and set to work, shutting down and packing away whatever Fuery indicated he was finished with.

The brunette's response was to make a face at the other woman and say, "Anyway, _Kain_..."

He grinned widely. "So, I want to go to the Eiffel Tower and...the Luxembourg gardens, Île de la Cité, the Catacombs, Bois de Boulogne. I want a bunch of photos for when we get back." Fuery was quite the amateur photographer and had a habit of snapping pictures wherever they traveled.

His enthusiasm made her smile. "Sounds great. There's a fantastic little café near the Bois de Boulogne where we could have lunch."

"Oh yeah! I remember...we went with your dad," Rebecca added as she exited the room. "The food is phenomenal, and the view is to die for."

"I know we may not be able to hit everything. And, you guys really don't have to do this..." His expression was at first self-conscious, but quickly shift to one of bafflement as he put his headphones up to one ear. "Whoa, Riz. Mayday...or whatever means the FBI guy's in a fistfight."

"What?" She chuckled, half-thinking he was joking, but her eyes narrowed when he tossed her a set of binoculars. Raising them, she moved closer to the window and her jaw dropped open. "Oh, holy shit." Mustang was alone in the room, engaged in hand-to-hand combat with an individual that did not belong to his team. The stranger landed a punch to his jaw, sending him into a table. Mustang pushed himself up and then lashed out quickly, kicking his adversary in the gut. The assailant scrambled, possibly for a gun, but Mustang stepped on his hand and kicked again. Then his legs were swept out from under him, the other man's head popped up, and she could tell he was throwing punches, but she could not discern much else.

"What's up?" Rebecca returned from her own bedroom with her luggage, expression curious upon seeing the blonde spying through the window.

"Here." She handed off the binoculars and ran the few steps to her bag, opening the shielded secret compartment.

The brunette looked into the room across the street and astonishment filled her voice. "Jesus...is that who I think it is?"

Riza was already pulling the pieces of her sniper rifle from their sections and fitting them together. "If you're thinking the Milliner, then yeah." She secured the scope in its place and then slid a round in the chamber.

"As in the assassin that tried to kill your dad that one time?" Rebecca opened the window for her.

"Yes." Grabbing a couple extra rounds she lifted her leg, set her foot on the edge of the table below the window sill, and rested her elbow on her bent knee. She took controlled breaths, clearing her mind.

"What a weird codename...really old-timey."

"Well, I'm guessing his job has nothing to do with making ladies' hats," Fuery joked, not even receiving a chuckle as the blonde concentrated and Rebecca quickly made final preparations.

Hazarding a glance at a flag suspended from the other hotel, Riza checked wind direction and estimated its speed, making the necessary corrections. "I hope you're ready to get the hell out of here after I do this."

"We're good," two voices replied simultaneously.

She gazed through the scope. "Ok, two males fighting, both pretty bloody. I've got eyes on Mustang...Hughes is down by the door...I don't see anyone else." The Milliner had Agent Mustang up against the far wall, hands wrapped around his throat.

The agent swiftly brought his arms down to break the Milliner's hold and, blocking with his left, his right fist contacted the assassin's face and sent him over the couch. Riza watched, waiting for a clean shot to take down the Milliner, and had to recognize that Mustang knew how to handle himself. While the agent had become something of a pain in her ass, in all honesty he seemed like a good guy. And they were on the same side, even if he was not aware of it. She also knew the Milliner's deadly reputation and, with all her experience as a sniper, she was not just going to let him die.

The Milliner popped up and Mustang jumped over the couch, using his momentum to land a forceful kick to the man's head. But the assassin was ready and dodged it, grabbing the other man's leg and throwing him against one of the windows through which she observed. He must have been stunned, because the Milliner picked him up and slammed him against the wall just at the edge of the line of windows. This time, he wrapped something around the agent's throat and pulled it tight. Mustang was struggling, but to little avail.

Taking a breath, Riza exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger, keeping her eye glued to the scope while she reloaded. Barely an instant later, the Milliner fell, one bullet through the temple, and Mustang clawed at whatever constricted his neck. She watched him run to his friend before she backed away from the window, policing her brass and breaking down her firearm. "Close the window, please, Bec. We should go...someone probably heard that." She put her rifle away and secured the compartment.

Rebecca also shut the curtains as a precaution and said with a combination of amusement and frustration, "You just saved his life, and he'll still be gunning for us."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, helping Fuery finish his own preparations. They were out the door in record time, but her mind was still across the street, adrenaline pumping. She had indeed saved a life, but she had also ended one, and Riza never took that lightly. And she had to wonder who had hired the Milliner to to kill Special Agent Roy Mustang in the first place.

* * *

Had Roy not been pinned against the wall with a ribbon wrapped around his neck by a crazy person, he would have been surprised when the window to his right suddenly cracked and his attacker dropped to the floor. As it stood, the adrenaline still raced through his veins as he tore the ligature away from his neck and his thoughts turned immediately to his injured friend in the next room.

"Maes!" He rasped, coughing while he stepped over the dead man and ran through the open doorway. "Maes! Come on, man," he muttered, nearly losing his balance as his body still recovered from the ordeal. Roy fell to his knees next to his friend and checked for visible wounds. He put two fingers to the pulse point on the man's neck and sighed in relief when there was a regular rhythm.

Assured that Hughes yet lived, Roy borrowed his phone to call the Interpol agent they had been dealing with during their trip. After only one ring, the man picked up and he wasted no time in saying, "Agent Mustang here. We had an unknown attacker in our hotel room...could really use your help." His voice was still scratchy and he coughed as he stood to walk off the remaining tension.

"I'll come immediately. Is the suspect at large?"

"No, he's dead. By the way, did you have any units stationed at the hotel across the street?" He moved as he spoke, examining the bullet hole in the window.

"Not to my knowledge. Why?" There was confusion in the other man's voice, which initially had been completely business-like.

"Because the suspect died from a gunshot wound to the temple, and I think the shot came from that hotel." He looked through the hole in the glass and saw a set of windows directly across from him, just one floor higher, with the drapes conveniently drawn.

The agent paused and then said, "We'll be right there."

"Thanks." After the call was disconnected, Roy slipped the phone in his pocket and continued to analyze the scene. Several questions came to mind: who wanted him dead, who was watching them, and how skilled an individual had to be to make that shot. He snapped a photo of the stranger and sent it to Breda before calling his partner, having realized they might be wondering why they'd not arrived.

"Dude...Where are you guys?" Havoc said by way of greeting. "The plane's supposed to take off any minute."

"About that...someone just tried to kill me, so I'm waiting for the Paris Interpol agent to arrive."

Havoc digested that with a surprised chuckle. "Damn. Are you alright? Who tried to kill you?...Shut up, Breda. I'll tell you in a sec..."

"We're fine, I think," Roy interrupted. "You guys take that flight, we'll hop a later one when I'm sure Maes is okay."

"Are you sure? We can head back to the hotel."

"No. We have no jurisdiction, as you know. Tell Breda to run that photo I sent him." He was sure the local police would do well, but he always had more faith in his own team. After ending the call, he returned to sit next to Maes, waiting for him to wake and for law enforcement to arrive. Finally, his friend groaned and his eyes popped open as he slowly tried to sit up.

"You okay?" Hughes asked him, his black hair sticking out at odd angles.

"Yeah, you?" He replied, helping the other man move into a seated position next to him against the wall.

"I don't think there's any permanent damage. Shit...my head hurts." He squeezed his eyes shut, hands moving to his forehead. "Who the hell was that? Glad you're not dead, by the way."

"Thanks." Roy chuckled, lightly rubbing his neck where the sensation of the ligature lingered. "You too. And I don't know, but he's dead...somebody shot him."

Maes turned his head quickly to look at him, wincing slightly in pain as he did so. "What? Who?"

"I have no idea. And all this shit I don't know is starting to piss me off."

Maes leaned his head back against the wall. "We'll figure it out…Dammit, that guy was quick."

Roy's phone rang and he quickly answered it. "Mustang."

"Hey, Boss," Breda began. "The only hit I have is an assassin who goes by the codename 'The Milliner.' Active for at least ten years, implicated in several strangulations, but never found and never charged. The only photo available came from an unnamed and now dead CI. It's pretty grainy, but it's a match."

"Thanks, Breda."

"No problem."

He ended the call and gave Maes a look of pure bafflement. "Breda says he was a contract killer. So I guess I'm popular." Aside from Loki, he was at a complete loss as to who might hire an assassin to kill one of them, but he was also almost certain that it was not her style. "Or you are."

He chuckled, wincing again. "Something tells me this is not the kind of popular we want to be."

A moment later, steps could be heard rushing in their direction and Interpol agents, along with Parisian police officers and emergency response personnel burst into the room. Law enforcement went about processing the scene while Maes and Roy were questioned for what felt like an age. They knew little: there was a knock at the door, Hughes answered and was instantly knocked unconscious without getting a look at the perpetrator, and then Roy was attacked from behind. Finally, they were seen by EMTs and cleared as not needing further medial attention. He was aware that they were lucky as hell.

An agent ushered them in the direction of their Interpol contact, who approached them and said, "We found the room across the street that matches the trajectory of the bullet. It was wiped. No brass, no prints...nothing."

"With your approval, Agent Sinclair, I'd like a few minutes to look through it," Roy requested, politely as he could. Legally speaking, he had no right, but he would go crazy if he did not get at least a walk-through.

Sinclair watched him for a second and nodded, leading the way through the organized investigative chaos toward the elevators down the hall. "Your guy Breda sent us the ID, and unfortunately we have no additional information. As for the shooter, we'll analyze the round to try to determine the firearm more specifically, but odds are we're looking at a sniper rifle. One of my guys used to be a sniper, and he tells me that whoever made that shot is a pro."

"Why is that?"

"It's a combination of things, really. The shot was clean, and extremely accurate...right in the center of the temple." He placed a finger on his own temple to illustrate. "There's also the angle of the shot, crosswind, position of the sun, humidity, and the fact that you were fighting. This guy was elite...the bullet was definitely meant for the man that received it."

Just as he was wondering why a sniper saved his life, they reached the hotel room and started to looked around. He let all other thoughts fall away, wanting to focus on that suite to avoid missing any details though, as Sinclair had warned, there was little to find. He was thinking that the walk-through had been pointless when they meandered into the final bedroom.

Again, no fingerprints had been found nor anything potentially useful left behind by its previous guest, but as he passed the bathroom he recognized the same mild hint of lavender as at the bar the prior evening. It was barely there, not strong enough to be perfume, and he thought it more likely to be shampoo or conditioner. Lavender on the woman that bumped into him and probably dropped that phone, and now lavender in this hotel room from which someone fired the shot that saved his life. He doubted it was a coincidence.

They thanked Agent Sinclair who informed them they could leave, with the warning that he may need to contact them later. He and Maes then returned to their own hotel where they retrieved their bags and called a cab. As they took their seats and told the driver their destination, Roy stared out the window and felt immensely relieved to be heading home. Not only had Loki beaten him, but he was attacked, his friend could have died, and they had gained hardly anything useful. Not exactly a success.

Still, the fact that Loki had felt the need to misdirect him meant he had gotten close, which led him to once more think of the assassin. As easy as it would be to blame it on her, his gut was sure it was someone else. She could have killed them that first night in the museum and she did not, so he was back to wracking his brain for anyone that might want them dead. The list was longer than he'd like; they had put so many criminals away.

Hughes interrupted his inner monologue. "No more near-death experiences, okay. I think we've reached our limit."

He gave a small, dismissive wave. "This was the first one in a while...don't be a baby."

Maes chuckled. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're the one that attracts these things. I'm just an innocent bystander."

"I don't think you can really place _all_ the blame on me."

"Maybe not, but you know I tell Gracia it's all you."

"Not cool, man."

* * *

 _Two Weeks Later_

"Is this a joke?" Riza chuckled in disbelief as she replaced a photo on the wall of Agent Havoc's apartment, leaning back to make sure it was even. "You're nuts." They were placing additional surveillance equipment in the homes of the members of Agent Mustang's team in an effort to obtain any information they could. The FBI team did not know it, but her crew was pulling out all the stops. Interestingly, they had discovered evidence of someone _else's_ surveillance in Mustang's apartment, and Fuery was already investigating it.

"What? You're not in? It's just the FBI." Olivier was on the phone with her, and had just made one of her more surprising requests in their history together.

She shook her head, though her friend could not see it, still finding the situation entertaining. "No, of course I'm in...Freya will certainly be all for it."

"Umm...I am definitely in, just so we're clear. Breaking into the FBI? Yes, please." Becca came back to the living room from the bedroom, carrying a book with her. "Oh my god...he has a _journal_. It's adorable. I wonder what he talks about."

" _Freya_...don't you think that's kind of an invasion of privacy?" Riza met the brunette's amused expression and then glanced around Agent Havoc's apartment, in which they stood. "Oh...right, whatever."

"The thing is," Olivier continued, temporarily ending their side conversation. "I need you to do it now. As in tonight."

Riza laughed again, starting to thoughtfully pace Havoc's living room as her mind switched to planning. "You want us to waltz into a secure government facility, no prep, and take possession of classified files. All without being noticed."

"Yes." Olivier's tone made it sound like she had said something wholly obvious, such as 'two plus two is four' or 'breathing is important.' "Is that a problem?"

She grinned again. "Not at all...Sounds like a good time. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page." She moved to the bookcase, fitting a bug in a secluded area.

"We are."

"Is there anything else, your majesty? Perhaps you'd like the crown jewels of England while we're at it."

"Don't be ridiculous...those are nowhere near the repository."

"You're right, how silly of me. Okay, I gotta go...I'll be in contact later." Riza examined the kitchen, deciding where she wanted to place more devices.

"Sounds good. Bye."

"Bye." She ended the call and then spoke to Kain via her earpiece. "Sig? Did you get all that?"

"Yeah, I'm on it." His words were laced with a very clear chuckle as he worked on getting building plans and schematics for them of a secure FBI records repository. Olivier had informed her that the video surveillance and reports from the night her Dad died disappeared fromm digital records. That was the same night that Agent Mustang discovered that Berthold Gavilán was also Zeus and her father had attempted to steal a weapon known as the Philosopher's Stone from a secured warehouse.

She still did not know who had killed her father, but knew it was not Mustang due to the lack of gunpowder residue found on his hands that night. And if the digital copies were gone, it was important that they find the originals before they vanished as well. Riza also thought that this coincided oddly with the recent attempt on Agent Mustang's life in Paris. Either he knew something, or the culprit did not care and wanted him dead as a precaution. It made her wonder what information could still be gleaned from those files.

In addition, they needed to acquire the communication records for certain individuals from the last several years. Olivier was looking into Director Marshall and Agents Raven, Simmons, Fitzgerald, and Crawford, which were all high-ranking members of the FBI. They would find the mole, and Riza just might shoot the bastard.

They finished placing their remaining devices, verified that everything was in its rightful place, and an impressively short time later she and Becca jumped into their vehicle. The brunette drove toward the facility in question while Riza rooted around for anything they might use for a last-minute disguise, finding a couple wigs and fake badges. Handing one of each to her friend, she faced forward in her seat and made another call. When the ringing subsided she said, "Hey, Barry."

"Doth mine ears deceive me, or is this the lovely Loki?" His voice was sickly sweet, to match his all-around unnerving persona, part of which being the fact that Barry was short for 'Barry the Chopper.' Their relationship had started when he tried to kill her, she shot him, and then he saved her life after developing an odd fondness for her. According to him, no one had ever 'tried to kill him back' before, and a professional relationship was born.

"It is...How did my little present work out?" Serial-killer turned information peddler and middleman, Barry had been one of her most reliable contacts ever since she'd gotten into the business with her father. They had helped each other out of some tight situations, which accounted for a mutual trust, as far as criminals trust each other. Most recently, she had recommended a skilled marksman for a job for which he acted as liaison.

"Oh, marvelously. I can't thank you enough. I was at a loss until you mentioned him and, I hope you don't mind, but I've been credited with discovering him."

"Not at all. I'm pleased to hear it worked out." She pulled the mirror before her down, fitting a black wig onto her head and making sure all her blonde strands were covered.

"Of course. Now then, what is it, my darling?"

"Did you find anything about that hit I asked you about?"

"Ahh, the one where the Milliner died after he tried killing the FBI boy that's been on your tail? Well, our community is just buzzing about the whole thing. I put some feelers out, and the Milliner met with Ron Bittens prior to the incident. You know who _he_ works for."

"Yeah." She nodded. "Kimblee." Her father had suspected the arms dealer before, which was why he'd tried to steal the weapon himself. Solf Kimblee lacked the barest trace of a conscience, selling weapons to any scumbag with money, but was so skilled at blackmail, had so many important people in his pockets, that no one dared touch him. "Thanks. Could you let me know if a contract is offered for him, his team, or Hughes from Interpol? If I'm going to have some company, I'd like to know."

"Certainly. I know you don't care for surprises." He paused, and she heard a muffled voice on the other end. "I'm afraid I have to go. Aurevoir, my darling."

"Take care, Barry." The call ended and she shook her head, amused by their surprising relationship. Over comms she added, "Sig, get me surveillance and locations on the files." She leaned back as they drove, thinking that the addition of Kimblee made sense. They would be hard-pressed to find anything conclusive that he was involved, but there was a good chance he was pulling the strings.

* * *

Around a half-hour later they arrived and, on their approach, Riza surveyed the area for other people, guards, or cameras. Once satisfied it was clear, she told the others, "We're going in." The pair exited the vehicle and walked toward the building, doing their best to look official. She glanced at her friend with a grin, who kept fidgeting, adjusting something repeatedly. "You okay there?"

"Yes." The reply held a hint of exasperation. "It's this damn shirt. And I don't think blonde is really my color."

"Please...you look great in anything. Besides, you have this sexy, Marilyn Monroe, FBI agent thing going on." They approached the door, avoiding cameras out of habit even though they knew Fuery controlled them.

"Aww, thanks. You're so nice...sometimes." They took a turn down another hallway and passed Denny, who gave them a smile as he tossed them the guard's key card.

"The guard may be napping in the bathroom for a little while," Denny informed them via comms as he left the building. "I'll be two streets over if you need me."

"We're so _devious_ ," Rebecca remarked with pride, and a little laugh.

"You're welcome, by the way," Denny teasingly chimed in as the women passed the guard's counter and reached the door to the storage area, where Riza swiped the card across the pad. There was a low buzzing sound and the lock clicked open. The warehouse was gigantic, with various locked and fenced areas interspersed with shelves that reached the ceiling.

"Alright, ladies," Fuery interjected. "Freya…southeast corner, server #183A72. Loki...document cage, near the opposite corner. I'll text you the file numbers."

"Thank you, sir." Riza shared a look with her friend and they went their separate ways. "Isn't it kinda peaceful in here?" She looked at her phone, memorizing the file numbers she'd received and letting the excitement of an impromptu job wash over her.

"No...it's weird, and you're weird. But you know what's been sounding good lately?" Rebecca said, conversational as ever.

"What's that?" She reached the gate leading to the document cage and picked the lock, letting it swing inward.

"A nice, big chocolate cake. I'm in...locating server."

"You and that sweet-tooth will be the death of me," she teased with a grin, searching for the drawer she needed in a monstrous filing cabinet. She flipped through file tabs with her fingertips, rapidly scanning them for the numbers Fuery had given her.

"Whatever, you love it. Drive's in."

She chuckled. "It's love-hate, to be honest."

Riza located the files and was removing them from the cabinet when Fuery abruptly jumped in. "Ahh...we have company."

Her brow wrinkled while she sifted through pages to verify she had the correct file. "Who?"

"You're not gonna believe this, but it's Agents Mustang and Havoc."

"What? Are you…?" For a second Riza only stared at the papers in her hands, hardly believing how frequently the agent managed to pop into their lives. It was unnerving. "This fucking guy..." she muttered. "Freya...progress?"

"Nearly done."

"Okay." She quickly considered their options. "Sig, I need a copier."

"Back corner of the cage...why?"

"I'd say there's a good chance he's here to look at these files, so they can't disappear tonight." Riza closed the drawer and swiftly strode to the copier, tapping in the code Fuery gave her and slipping the pages onto the tray. "Freya, stall them. I'll start the copies and pick up the drive."

"Sure, let me just pull something out of my ass." Her friend's voice sounded exasperated, but everyone knew she enjoyed the situations that required them to improvise.

"That would be great, thanks. And please do the southern accent. I love your southern accent." She pressed a button and the copier surged to life while she ditched her heels and silently sprinted to the server.

" _No laughing_ this time. I'm serious. I could barely hold it together last time."

"Yes, ma'am," she retorted, already testing her own southern belle. "Freyr, hold your position." There was absolutely no way Agent Mustang could have know they were at that exact facility, which meant it was a bizarre coincidence.

"Download complete, sorting records by name," Fuery told her.

Riza fought back snickers as in her ear Rebecca said, "Hi, there. Do ya'll know where the guard is? I've been tryin' to get some files my boss asked for." Someone must have rang the bell because it trilled a few times from the front of the building when she reached the server.

As she retrieved the thumb drive and ran back toward the document cage, she overheard Havoc saying, "Hi, I'm Jean. What's your name?"

She laughed quietly. "Is that his only line? It's not much of one."

"I'm Special Agent Sarah Miller. And who might ya'll be?" Rebecca must have directed her question to Mustang, because his voice came over the earpiece next. "Agent Roy Mustang."

"Do you boys know of any good restaurants round here? I bet two handsome boys like you know all the best spots. My partner and I haven't been to D.C. much, aside from visits to the J. Edgar Hoover Building, of course." Becca giggled.

Having finally arrived at the copy room, Riza slipped her shoes back on and saw one file had finished, placing the next in the slot to feed through to machine. Since she was standing there waiting, the copies were taking forever and it made Riza feel like she was losing her mind. She kept an ear on Becca's conversation, hearing: "If you and your partner are free for dinner, we'd love to take you to this great little place..."

Fuerys voice cut in. "Loki, you may have a visitor...Mustang's getting curious."

"Shit...alright." The last few pages were being spit out so she ran the originals back to their filing cabinet, making sure to return them to the proper place. Then, she grabbed her papers, placing random forms on the top and bottom of the stack so it would seem innocuous. Walking to the gate, she fiddled with her fake glasses, hoping they would be enough of a disguise along with the wig. She opened the gate and partially collided with Agent Mustang himself, but managed not to drop her files.

"Excuse me," he said, his deep voice soft as they reflexively grabbed on to each other to stabilize themselves.

Riza brought a hand to her chest with a nervous chuckle and met his gaze with a smile, speaking in her southern accent. "Oh my goodness. You _startled_ me...I'm so sorry for runnin' into you. Are you alright? Sarah's always tellin' me I need to watch where I'm goin. I keep tellin' her she's crazy, but….Oh my goodness, listen to me ramblin' on." She held out her hand to shake his. "Special Agent Leanna Miller. My partner's waitin' for me up front."

"Special Agent Roy Mustang," he replied with a small, friendly grin, shaking her hand. "And I think my partner is trying to take yours on a date."

She gave a light laugh. "Trust me. If I know Sarah, your partner's not the only guilty party there." He chuckled and she continued, holding the papers up for emphasis. "We really need to get back. It was nice meetin' you."

"You, too."

She turned away and was only a few steps outside the cage when she heard the sound of a weapon being pulled from a holster. Then he said, "Hello, Loki. Even with the accent, I recognize your voice after our conversation in Paris."

Riza smiled in amusement, unable to stop herself. "I'm flattered that you remember my voice so well, Agent Mustang." In her ear, she heard Kain's mildly frantic, _Freya, get out...Loki's been made._

"Don't go thinking you're special," he replied, voice determined, taking a few slow steps in her direction. "I have a pretty good ear for voices, and a way with the ladies."

She gave a chuckle, and used one of his lines from their last conversation. "Don't you think that's a bit over-confident?" From her comm she knew that Becca was still chatting with Agent Havoc, leading him out of the building.

He laughed. "Good memory...let's get those hands up, by the way. It's best I see your hands at all times."

"Smart man, Mustang." She held up the papers with her right hand and started to bend down, adding, "I'm just going to set these down." Riza turned her head minutely to get a glimpse of him and judge the distance between them.

He kept the firearm trained on her back as she stood, and he slid his phone out of a pocket. He only managed to say, "Hav..." before she spun in a flash and swung a leg around to kick the gun out of his hand. A shot was fired but it missed her and the weapon clunked to the floor as she twisted into a crouch, sweeping his feet out from under him. Finishing the spin she reached for the papers and started to rise but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. She grunted softly as her hip bone smacked on concrete and he tried to move on top of her, reaching for her hand, but she threw an elbow into his face. He'd tried to shoot her... _again._

"Shit!" He breathed, and she took that opportunity to disentangle her limbs and turn on her back. He brought an arm down to block the fist flying for his abdomen and she wrapped her legs around his torso. Mustang was quite strong but she was accustomed to it, nearly always fighting someone larger or more muscular than herself.

She chuckled again. "We really must stop meeting like this, Agent Mustang."

His face was in shadow but she thought he might have grinned in spite of himself. "So just...let me...arrest you."

"Not a chance." He managed to trap one of her wrists with his hand, but before he could get the other she used her legs to shift his weight and rotate them. As they rolled, she grasped two of his fingers, twisting them enough to cause pain and loosen his grip but not dislocate the joint. Without stopping, she wriggled her wrist free and continued the roll right off of him.

She heard Agent Havoc's shouts coming toward them so Riza grabbed the papers, jumped to her feet and sprinted away while Mustang went for his firearm. She was out a side door in seconds, running at top speed along the building. "Freya...location. I'm heading to the northwest corner of the building."

"Coming to you."

She passed that end of the building and Becca met up with her at a run. "Freyr, we..." With the squeal of tires his car pulled up to the curb dead ahead of them and they practically dove into the car. He punched the gas and they were gone, Riza leaning her head back as she caught her breath, the papers on her lap. She placed a hand on his shoulder for a second and said, "Thanks."

"No problem." He smirked. "I like to play get-away driver now and then."

She smiled in response, her respiration rate gradually decreasing as she relaxed.

"That better have been fucking worth it," Becca contributed breathlessly, sprawled out in the back seat. "Hey, Havoc was the guy that hit on you at the museum, right?" When the blonde nodded she laughed. "He asked me out, and he's kinda cute...if only he didn't follow the _rules_ so much."

Riza chuckled, the word 'rules' having been tinged with such disgust. "What a tragedy."

"That's all I'm saying." The brunette paused, taking a deep breath. "You know, I could really go for that chocolate cake right now."

She nodded her agreement. "And a glass of wine."

"Or two."

Riza looked out at the city, her calmed body now feeling heavy enough to sink into the seat after the burst of energy and motion. She played with the papers in her lap while her thoughts wandered, and she had to give Agent Mustang credit for identifying her by voice. She did not anticipate them visiting the repository, and should have been more careful. For instance, it would have been wise to have them tailed for the evening, or to have their phones monitored more closely in case they communicated their plans that way. In any case, it would be nice if they did not run into anyone from the FBI team for a little while.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

Responses to guest reviews:

Hermit Crab - Thank you! I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed the chapter, and her misdirecting Roy :) It was a lot of fun to write.

Guest - Thank you! I'm always thrilled to hear someone finds the story interesting. And thank you for the compliment on the characterization. As for the rest, we'll see what happens :) Thanks again!


	5. The Watchmen

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hey all! My apologies for posting a few days late this week. This weekend was crazy busy! Just an FYI, I changed up a couple details related to the Hughes family and I did my best to explain them adequately in this chapter. Also, responses to guest reviews from the last post can be found at the end of this one. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **The Watchmen** (~3 Weeks Later)

Roy groaned into his pillow when the cellphone rang from the bedside table, yanking him from a deep and dreamless sleep. He lay on his stomach and kept himself buried in sheets and pillows until the last possible moment, hoping the caller might simply capitulate and hang-up. He finally sighed and with a few grumbles, rose onto his elbows when it continued to ring, reaching for the cruel device and wondering what had happened to the sanctity of the _weekend_.

He cleared his throat and answered, voice still thick from sleep. "Mustang." Rolling onto his back, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his neck.

Raven's deep, booming laugh came over the phone, and Roy decided it was entirely too early for that much noise. Then he saw it was already 0830. "Did I wake you, kid?"

"If I said yes, would it matter?" He stretched and yawn, beginning to untangle himself from the bedding.

The man guffawed. "Not much, no. You youngsters sleep too damn late." He paused, prepping for an old-guy style lecture. "You know, when I was young, I had to be up at 0500 every morning. It was good for me...taught me not to waste the day."

Roy chuckled derisively as he climbed out of bed. "Oh, really? Did you have to walk uphill both ways to school, too? I bet it was in a fucking blizzard...Tell me, Gene, did they have shoes back in the 1800s?" He walked to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Wiseass."

"You woke me up...on _my day off_."

"And I thought you were a morning person."

"I usually am, just not on _my day off_." He took a drink and then gestured with the glass. "Are you sensing a common theme, here?"

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He chuckled again. "So I've been told...repeatedly." He took another drink and cleared his throat. "Pleasantries aside, what's going on?"

"I need a favor, kid."

"Why do I get the feeling this favor involves me working tonight?"

"Probably because it does." Raven paused and took a breath. "Do you remember what your old partner tried to steal that night he shot you?"

A muscle clenched in Roy's gut and he ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair with a quiet exhale. "Yeah."

"We've received intel that someone's going to make a play for it again. I want you and your team there to make sure it's secure. I know it's a bit below your pay-grade, but your team really knows its shit...and you're the most reliable."

He looked out the window as he contemplated his boss' request. "Well, the shameless attempt at manipulation via flattery aside, we'll do it." He wanted to be certain that no one managed to possess that weapon.

"Thank you, Roy. Really. I can't be there myself, and you're the only one I trust to handle this."

"You're welcome, sir." His brows drew together when Raven called him by his first name as opposed to the usual 'kid' or 'Mustang.' It was odd, and he could not recall the older agent _ever_ using his name, but he tried to shrug it off.

"You won't have any trouble getting your people to work a Saturday night?" There was skepticism in Raven's voice.

He shook his head. "No, we'll be there. They may not be especially happy about it, but they'll work."

"Drinks are on me at the bar this week."

"My team would appreciate that." He ended the call and put the coffee on to percolate, grabbing some leftovers out of the fridge for breakfast. After taking a bite, he picked up his phone once more and dialed Havoc's number, starting on the calls that would no doubt make his entire team immensely happy.

* * *

Later that day, Roy parked his car in front of a modest, two-story house and strolled up the walk to the front door. The home was white, no shutters, and had a porch in front that spanned the full length of the building. The neighborhood was always pleasantly quiet, and this particular house was basically a second home to him. There was an open invitation to dinner, and he could not count the number of evenings he had spent with Hughes and his family. He had his own life of course, but he always set aside time for them; they had become his family as well.

He checked his watch before knocking on the door: he had to meet his team in a couple hours for their overtime that night and needed to keep an eye on the time. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal Gracia's smiling face. She was Maes' wife, and had become something of an unofficial sister to him over the years. He grinned in response, she beamed.

"Hey, Gracia." They hugged.

"Hi, Roy." She stepped aside to allow him entry. The welcoming scent of food wafted through the house, and laughter could be heard from the next room. "The birthday girl's in the living room."

"And how old is she now?" He followed her into the kitchen.

"Sixteen...if you can believe it. Seems like only yesterday we adopted a nine-year-old." Gracia shook her head good-naturedly as she set to work.

"Jesus...sixteen." He shook his head. Seven years ago, Gracia and Maes adopted a young Elicia after she had already lived in the foster system for a couple years. Before that, she lived with a grandmother who passed away; she had no memory of her biological parents. The Hughes were unable to have children, and when they met the young girl, the trio just clicked. "Why do I come here? You all only remind me how old I'm getting."

"If you need help with that, come see me anytime, Roy-boy." His Aunt Chris, the woman that raised him after his own parents died, joined them in the kitchen.

He gave her a quick hug in greeting and chuckled. "Hey thanks, Aunt Chris, I'll keep that in mind. Anytime I want to feel horrible about myself, I'll visit you."

"Do you hear that attitude, Gracia? I hope Elicia doesn't develop one similar," she teased, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.

"Yes, Uncle Roy is a terrible influence." Gracia grinned at him as she finished icing the cake.

"No he's not, Mom. Uncle Roy's awesome," Elicia declared as she entered the room to grab a soda, stopping to give her 'uncle' a hug.

"Thanks, kiddo. I'm glad someone's on my side." He gave her shoulders another squeeze. "And happy birthday."

"Thanks! So, I need you to help me talk Dad into buying another car cause..."

"You're enlisting _him_ too?" Maes interrupted as he walked through the kitchen door. "Not gonna happen, Lici."

Roy lowered his voice and quietly added to his niece, "Don't worry, we'll wear him down." Elicia gave him a thumbs up with a smile before she left the room. He then turned to shake his friend's hand. "Maes."

"Roy...thanks for coming. Don't you have to work later?"

"I couldn't miss our girl's sixteenth birthday. And yes, don't remind me. I agreed to do it as a favor to Raven." His tone conveyed mild exasperation.

Maes laughed. "And now you're regretting it." He moved behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Need any help?"

She pushed light brown hair out of green eyes and surveyed the kitchen. "No, thanks, hun. I think I'm fine. Chris is helping out, too."

"Aunt Chris? Helping in the _kitchen_?" Roy feigned extreme surprise.

"You're alive, aren't you? Clearly I managed to feed you all those years," she retorted, and he dodged the tomato she threw at him, chuckling.

The two men went out back to sit on the patio and he accepted the beer Hughes handed him, twisting it open and taking a long swig. Part of him sorely wished he had not agreed to work, while the other part did not trust anyone else to keep the Stone safe. He glanced out over the backyard, which was full of plant-life and well-landscaped thanks to Gracia. The family lived in one of the many Washington, D.C. suburbs and, though the partially visible D.C. skyline reminded him of the bustling city not far away, it was peaceful.

"Is it Loki tonight?" Maes glanced at him and then leaned back in his chair, beer bottle cradled in one hand.

"No. Guard-duty at some FBI storage facility. Someone may be making a play for that secret item that cannot be mentioned, and Raven wants us there." He took another drink, crossing an ankle over the other knee and exhaled slowly, taking advantage of the opportunity to relax.

"But _maybe_ Loki?" His friend smiled, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Do you have a new-found mega-obsession with Loki?" He laughed. "Seriously, though, I doubt it. They've been inactive for weeks...not even any chatter since we found them at the repository. And the Stone really isn't their type of target." He swirled the beer, thinking once more about the unexpected job he and Havoc had interrupted a few weeks ago. Roy had kicked himself that night after being so close to nabbing her before she managed to escape yet again.

"We didn't expect files would interest them either." Maes shrugged and sipped. "And they were files concerning you, no less, and that classified thing that cannot be mentioned." He paused again. "I mean, the _thing_ may not be shiny, but it's certainly rare and has a big price tag. It's pretty close to their style."

"That's true." He nodded; his friend did make a decent point. However, he found it intriguing that she'd been after files that had just disappeared from digital storage, and that she'd taken the time to copy the damn things. To him, that meant she was looking for information but did not want anyone to know of her interest. He did not believe she had nefarious designs on the weapon. "I'm telling you man, whatever she wants, it's not the _thing_."

Maes gave another shrug before taking a drink. "Who am I to disagree with your famous gut? It's served you pretty well so far." He chuckled. "Except for when she elbowed you in the face...you did _not_ see that coming. The bruise is pretty much gone, though. So that's nice."

"I know, finally." Roy grinned in amusement and reached a hand up to his souvenir from his last little skirmish with Loki. "Shit...I can't _wait_ to bring her in."

"When you do, I really want to talk to her…You know, meet the woman that managed to evade and injure you on multiple occasions." He paused, lifting his beer. "I bet she's really interesting. She'd have to be…no one knew she even existed. She's _that_ good."

"There is a whole team, you know, it's not just her. And it's my job to arrest her, I don't really care about her life story." Frustration bled through his voice momentarily as he had been catching some shit at the office after Havoc had spread the stories of his encounters with Loki. He took a drink and laughed inwardly at himself, surprised by how much the thief had gotten to him. Though he would prefer not to admit it, her story _did_ interest him since he had never before come across a person that was quite so illusive. "You're gonna buy another car, aren't you?" Roy smiled knowingly as he changed the subject.

"Gah...probably." Maes half-laughed and half-sighed. "But you have to keep these kids on their toes. She can't know I'm thinking about it until the last possible moment."

He chuckled. "You're such a softie."

"I've been called worse."

"True enough. What'd you decide for your anniversary? It's coming up."

"I'm doing the Paris thing...got the tickets and everything. It'll be a surprise. Speaking of, can you be around to keep an eye on Elicia? She has school."

"Of course, man." He took a drink. "I'll make sure she doesn't throw any crazy parties."

"I should probably be more worried about you throwing the crazy parties, anyway."

Roy nodded. "Probably. Elicia's a good kid."

"Unlike us." Hughes shook his head again. "We did so much shit I would _never_ let her do."

"What? You mean you _don't_ want her to go on a fun-filled road trip to Canada?" He smirked. "That was a good time."

"Keep it down." Maes put a hand out to stop him and looked back toward the house. "That trip...well...I don't need her getting any ideas."

He laughed. "We weren't that bad."

"I'm sure Aunt Chris would have a very different opinion."

"Are you boys hiding away talking shop?" Gracia's voice cut in as she paced toward them, putting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"No, we only talked work for a second, I _swear_." Hughes leaned his head against her torso and smiled up at her. "Okay, maybe for a few seconds. Cake time?"

"Yes." She leaned down to kiss him, the smile never leaving her features. Maes and Gracia had always been that couple that were so crazy about each other some people found it incredibly irritating. They were even highschool sweethearts.

Roy took a drink, eyes narrowed in slight confusion. "Ah...I may be mistaken...but don't we usually eat dinner first?"

Gracia gave a chuckle. "Elicia wants dessert first...and she's the birthday girl."

"Then who am I to argue?" He shrugged and followed them into the dining room for the birthday festivities.

* * *

Approximately an hour later, Roy started making his round of goodbyes. He gave Gracia another hug, shook Maes' hand, chatted briefly with a few more people, and promised his aunt he would visit soon for dinner. Aunt Chris owned and operated a popular bar in downtown Washington, D.C. handing a small box to Elicia when he reached her. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

Her green eyes looked at him curiously, and as she opened the box her expression went from unsure to overjoyed in mere milliseconds. "Oh my god!" Elicia jumped up and down in excitement. "Oh my god! You got me the tickets!" He laughed at her exuberance as she hugged him. "Mom will _have_ to take me to the concert now! Ooh, she's gonna be mad at you." Her smile was wide.

"I'm glad you like it." He shrugged. "What are uncles for, right?" She had been begging to go to a rock concert for months, but Gracia had not yet given the green light. Roy had made sure to buy enough tickets so Elicia's parents could take her along with a friend of hers.

"Thank you, Uncle Roy. Seriously." It seemed she could not stop smiling.

He pulled her in for another hug before moving toward the door. "You're welcome. But I gotta go, see ya later, Lici." With a small wave he was out the door and striding toward his car. Perching his sunglasses on his nose since he'd be driving into the sunset, he opened the windows to get some air, and pulled away from the curb. His mind was already contemplating options for that evening at the FBI warehouse, deciding how they should set up their security. They would have some extra personnel, which would be helpful, but he still wanted his team to take care of the more important aspects of the job. He trusted them.

While half of him hoped no one would come for the device, the other half wanted someone to show up so that he could bring them in. After everything that happened the night Berthold tried to steal the Stone, he wanted it to be over with. He was tired of the weapon and that incident creeping back into the spotlight periodically. There were many achievements listed in his file, evidence of his effort and focus on work, but at times he felt as though that one night would follow him forever.

About a half-hour later, Roy drove into the parking lot of the secure FBI facility that would be their responsibility for the evening. He walked purposefully up to the building and took off his sunglasses as he entered, Breda falling into step next to him shortly thereafter. The man appeared cheerful, and seemed to be feeling rather self-satisfied. "So, ah, Boss. I did a thing, and I don't want you to be pissed."

He stopped and narrowed his eyes at Breda, running a hand over his jaw and crossing his arms. "What did you do?"

The other man looked at him, a wide grin on his face that said he knew he did something wrong but was pretty happy about it. "I...well, I ran Loki's sketch through the CIA." The last few words were marginally quieter than the others.

His brow furrowed. "What? How?" It did not surprise him that Breda had found a way to search CIA databases, and his intense curiosity was actually outweighing any irritation. When his tech-guy did somewhat questionable things, they generally benefited the team immensely.

"Well, that's the thing. It's _possible_ that it was not entirely legal." He shrugged, grin making the transition to sheepish.

"I figured." Roy released a chuckle and shook his head. "You're killing me, man. Even if you found something, we couldn't use it." He gestured for them to start moving again since it was about time for their guard-duty to begin.

"I know," Breda acquiesced and then gave a little shrug. "But, it could point us in the right direction...maybe."

"So, you found something?"

"Sort of."

His expression was again one of mild confusion, and he smiled in amusement. "Do explain." They paused again in front of the door to the security office.

"Boss...a _file_ came up." Breda's eyebrows rose practically to the roof to communicate is own surprise.

"You're kidding." Roy watched the man for a second. "They have a file on her?"

"Yeah, but I can't see any of it...not even the photo that matched our sketch, and no information whatsoever. The clearance is sky-freaking-high."

"Interesting." His eyes narrowed once more as he contemplated what that might mean. _So, Loki, not as invisible as you thought_. She could be an independent contractor, or an informant to whom they've given a pass to continue thieving as part of some agreement. Shit, she could be an _agent_. "Thanks, Breda. I assume you found this cleanly?"

He nodded. "Yeah...nobody will know I took a peek."

"Good." He led the way into the security office and they joined the rest of the team who were chatting amongst themselves. "Ok people. We've received intel that tonight an unknown individual or group may attempt to steal a device in this warehouse codenamed The Philosopher's Stone. Breda, man the surveillance equipment here. We have other agents stationed at all exits, and the rest of us will be running patrols. We'll be on comms."

"Where is the device itself?" Maria Ross asked.

"In a vault in the western portion of the central storage area. I've got men stationed there as well." He glanced at the rest of his team, silently inquiring whether there were any more questions. When none were forthcoming he continued, "Let's get to it."

Roy left the room and Havoc walked alongside him as they began the first circuit of the night. "That device...isn't that what your old partner tried to steal?"

"Yes, and that's one reason we're here." He paused, looking around and getting a feel for the warehouse. "Hey, did Breda tell you?"

"The CIA thing? Crazy shit. But at least now we know whose door to start knocking on." They rounded a corner, making note of aisle-ways, dimensions, and creating mental maps of the building in the event something did happen.

"True. But it _is_ the CIA...and they're about as helpful as a shark attack."

His partner chuckled. "Solid point." After a few steps he added, "Or they might be as helpful as an alien invasion."

He smiled. "Or a venereal disease."

The blonde agent laughed and they continued, efficiently completing their first rounds while verifying doors were locked, cameras functional, and checking-in with the other agents that had been assigned to the location. Once done, they returned to the surveillance room for a short respite and, as soon as they walked in, Havoc poured himself a cup of coffee. He then took a seat at the table at one side of the room, produced a deck of cards, and said, "Are you ready to lose some money?"

"Only if you're ready to lose a lot more," Roy responded, grabbing coffee for himself and taking a seat across from him. "If only there were a hot chick here to distract you and make my job that much easier."

"So I'd rather flirt with a lovely lady than pay attention to a card game." Havoc shrugged as he shuffled the deck. "Sue me."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure you're actually really good at poker. Your losing streak is evidence only of your interest in women."

"Okay, dude, I only lost spectacularly that one time. And that _did_ involve a woman."

"Yes, and you've lost normally every other time." He picked up the cards Havoc dealt him and fanned them out slightly.

"Ya know, a partner is supposed to be supportive. I'm not really getting that vibe from you."

* * *

The hours passed agonizingly slowly, reminding Roy why he'd always despised guard-duty. He preferred to keep busy, and it there was one thing that never failed to drive him nuts it was sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Throughout the night the team alternated patrols, kept an eye on video feeds, and routinely communicating with the other posts. They tried to keep themselves entertained in the interim by chatting, playing cards, and drinking too much coffee. At one point, nearly bored to tears, they gave in to hunger and ordered food from a nearby Chinese take-out restaurant that was open 24 hours-a-day.

Midnight came and went with no sign of any activity at all, and he was starting to think they may get through the night uneventfully. The information could have been a false alarm, and he hoped that if their trap failed to snare any potential thieves the higher-ups would simply move the weapon to a more secure location and be done with it. Checking the clock, he saw it was once again his and Havoc's turn to make a circuit of the warehouse so he stood. Stretching, he hit his partner's shoulder and said, "Alright, let's do this."

The blonde agent rose to join him on the walk out the door, smothering a yawn with his hand. "I need more caffeine...or a beer. I'm not sure which one."

Roy chuckled. "Whatever keeps you awake, I guess."

"See, now that's the support I was talking about. Maybe more like indifference, but right now, I'll take it."

The storehouse was dim as they had kept only around half the lights on. Since it was a storage facility for a variety of items, including those of a top-secret nature, there were several strategically placed cameras inside the building. In a more modern facility there would have been more surveillance equipment. This warehouse, however, was older and for that reason he had requested the additional agents be stationed at the doors.

They outlined the building and then moved through the towering shelves housing old files, evidence, and who knew what else. When they came to the end of one such aisle, they happened to also be nearing an emergency exit door. Roy's brow furrowed when he noticed a substance on the ground he did not recall seeing when they'd passed through the area shortly before. Pulling out the flashlight for his firearm, he crouched down and shone the light on a small area containing what appeared to be droplets of a dark liquid. Suddenly, his suspicions that it was blood confirmed, he stood and drew his weapon. He gave his partner a nod, who then drew his own pistol as well and they crept along, looking for the culprit or the victim.

Quietly, into his earpiece, he said, "Breda, have all posts check-in. There's blood at the eastern emergency exit."

He listened as the various other agents confirmed that they were still at their designated location, until they reached two that did not respond. He could hear Breda saying, "Op 3 and Op 4, report in...Op 3, Op 4...do you copy?" Just then, the building when completely dark, and he retrieved his flashlight once more, turning it on.

"Boss." It was Breda. "I've lost all feeds."

From Ross, he heard, "Falman and I are covering the western side of the building. We'll meet you in the middle."

"Copy. Breda, try to restore power." He and Havoc continued, pacing slowly and silently, ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. Roy's mind was racing through what data he possessed: no alarm went off when the eastern door was breached, they heard nothing via comms, saw nothing on the videos, and now the power was gone. He could not hear a damn thing.

Abruptly, they heard shouting up ahead, and the two men raced toward what had already been their destination: the cage housing the vault that contained the Philosopher's Stone. As he rounded the corner of one of the stacks, Roy could just make Maria Ross out in the darkness to his left down the aisle. She was cautiously approaching the cage, the gate of which hung open, guards absent, and then he caught movement at the far end of the aisle. In the dim light of an emergency floodlamp he could just make out what looked like an individual, dressed completely in black, standing with an arm raised and aimed at her. With little hesitation he broke into a sprint, then the retort of a pistol reached his ears and he dove, managing to take her to the ground and out of the line of fire.

He wasted no time jumping to his feet and running after the individual, who had already disappeared from the end of the aisle. Roy followed the sound of the footfalls, turning right around the corner of shelves, and saw them up ahead. From the build, he guessed it was a man. He was gaining when there was a sharp pain at the back of his head, and everything went dark.

* * *

When he woke there was darkness beyond his eyelids and he had a ridiculous headache originating somewhere near the base of his skull. Based on the sheets that felt about as comfortable as sandpaper, he suspected he was in a hospital. He groaned as he pushed the button to raise the bed into something closer to a seated position, wincing when the lights came on and an extremely cheerful nurse greeting him in a high-pitched voice.

"Look who's awake." She grinned at him, and he saw from the name-tag on her pink scrubs that her name was Melissa. "How are you feeling, Mr. Mustang?" She grabbed his wrist and pressed two fingers to the pulse-point, eye on her watch.

"Abso-fucking-lutely wonderful. What time is it?" He closed his eyes briefly against the florescent lighting, which was making his head ache even more.

She chuckled at his response and then pulled out a small flashlight to check his pupillary response. "Five in the morning. You've been in and out of consciousness, but you seem quite alert now."

"Boss?" He looked past the nurse and saw an incredibly tired-looking Maria Ross striding through the door.

"Ah, she's back! This young lady has hardly left your side, Mr. Mustang. I had to push her out the door just to get her to eat." She paused. "You're pretty popular, actually. One of your friends is asleep in the other bed...They actually shouldn't be here, but my Dad was in the FBI...thirty years...so I have a bit of a soft spot. You..."

"Ah, ma'am?" He raised a hand to massage his temples, amazed that a person could cause such pain just with her voice.

"Oh my goodness...ma'am? It's Melissa, honey." She lightly tapped his upper arm flirtatiously.

He gave a small nod, trying to keep his irritation to a minimum but finding it difficult. "Yeah, okay...When can I get out of here?"

She gave him the type of friendly smile that teachers or healthcare professionals give that can sometimes seem patronizing. "I'll just go track down the doctor for you, sweetie."

"Thank you." Once she was gone, he moved to leave the bed and get dressed anyway, but heard an unexpected clanking noise. That was when he realized that he was handcuffed to the goddamn bed-rail. "What the _shit_?"

"Right...uh, Boss?" It was Ross again, and she seemed nervous. "Uh...there are people that believe you had something to do with the theft of the Philosopher's Stone."

"So it's gone." He saw her nod and he sighed, lips forming a line. "Why in hell do they think I was involved?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "They won't tell us anything."

His ears perked and his head throbbed when he heard yelling down the hall. The voice was moving in his direction. "...kidding me?! You _know_ the kid didn't do this, Jake!...I don't give a shit, he didn't do it….You WHAT?!" At that instant his boss Gene Raven entered the room and threw his phone down on the other bed. "Fucking idiots, all of them." He looked around the room. "Everyone out. I need to speak with Mustang." When Havoc did not budge Raven kicked the bed to wake him and then pointed to the door.

Roy had to admit, he felt somewhat relieved that he had Agent Raven on his side; someone who knew him well enough to know he never steal a weapon of mass destruction. The older agent also had the subtlety of a shotgun and frequently used that to support his agents. After the room was empty save for them, the older man shut the door in the nurse's face, who had appeared after all the commotion. "Sir, what the hell is going on?"

Raven opened his mouth to answer and then saw the younger man's hand. "What the…? They _cuffed_ you?" He reached into a pocket and removed a key for the cuffs, releasing Roy from their confines. He shook his head. "I'm sorry about this, kid. They think you were involved."

" _Why_ …?" He exhaled in disbelief, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, still unable to fully accept that he had gone from respected agent to suspect in a few hours.

Raven settled into the chair near the bed, sighing heavily and rubbing his face in fatigue. "Evidently, the shots that killed the two guards outside the eastern emergency exit came from a gun registered in your name...it was left at the scene. Also, your ID was used to access the gate." The older man sighed once more. "Roy, did you go to a secure records repository a few weeks ago?"

He eyed his boss, perplexed. "Yes...why?"

"All the files concerning the Philosopher's Stone, as well as Berthold Gavilán and the night he died, disappeared the same evening you were there." He shook his head. "It doesn't look good, kid."

"I didn't _take_ them, sir." He stared at Raven and then at the wall, completely incredulous: someone was setting him up.

" _I_ know that. Look, we'll figure this out. In the meantime, your team will be suspended while we investigate this issue."

"Sir, my team was with me all night."

"For the most part, yes. But there were times when you were split up, were there not?"

"Bathroom breaks, that's it. Otherwise, I was with someone all night." He lifted his hand only to let it drop back onto the mattress with a shake of his head; he could not believe this.

"Like I said, we will figure this out. I know as well as you that this is asinine." Raven leaned back in his seat. "Some of us think it was your girl Loki."

"Can you just get me out of here, Gene? I'd like to get home." As with the attempt on his life in Paris, it would be easy to blame Loki, but something in his mind still rejected that idea. There was no doubt they were capable of this, but it felt wrong. That night at the repository she left the original files and, if she was setting him up, that made no sense. His mind was fuzzy, and it felt like there was some detail that was just out of his reach. He could figure this out, but he needed to leave the hospital and clear his mind.

His boss nodded. "They'll want me to keep a couple guys on you."

Reluctantly, Roy nodded and dressed while Raven went into the hall and spoke with the medical staff to procure his release. They were not entirely willing, nor were they completely convinced he should go home, but eventually they agreed. Twenty minutes later, he was walking out the sliding doors of the hospital with Havoc, who had agreed to give him a ride to his vehicle which was still at the storehouse. When he reached his car, he drove straight home, waiting until he was inside with the door locked before he let the full extent of his anger, frustration, and confusion hit him.

He dropped into a seat at his kitchen table and held his head in his hands: this could _not_ be happening. All his hard work, devoting his entire fucking life to that job, closing all those cases, and now he was a suspect. Just like that. The organization had to protect itself, he understood that, but to wake up cuffed to a hospital bed just rubbed salt in the wound. There was an odd hollow feeling in his chest, as if everything he had done over the past several years suddenly meant nothing.

Shaking his head, he thought, _Don't be stupid_. Standing, he moved into his bedroom and glanced at the one remaining photo of himself and his parents. It sat on his bookshelf, though he often hid it when he had a date in order to avoid having to answer questions about them. The photo bolstered him, and he resolved to prove his and his team's innocence. He would not let them become the FBI's scapegoat, and if he ever wanted to learn the truth about his parents, once and for all, he had to keep climbing the government ladder. It was not an option.

* * *

 **AN:** So, I wanted Elicia to be a bit older for this story, and hopefully later chapters will make it clear why that is. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews (in order of posting):**

Hermit Crab: Thank you! I'm glad it's not too predictable.

Guest 2 (May 2): Thank you! Glad you like it!

Guest (May 3): Mustang's got some skills!

Guest (May 5): Thank you! It's really wonderful to hear you're enjoying it.


	6. The Envelopes

**Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! Not posting super late this time! Responses to guest reviews from the previous chapter can be found at the end of this post. I hope you like chapter 6!

* * *

 **The Envelopes**

Riza slipped through the deactivated emergency exit and into the stairwell of a D.C. office building. She held the door handle, closing it quietly to avoid anyone hearing her entrance, and then crouched briefly near the stairs to listen for any activity nearby. "I'm in." It was approximately 0400 and the building was largely unlit and quiet, with only security guards and a few night owls still there. "Positions."

"Exfil-A," came the General's voice. "All clear."

"Exfil-B," Denny added. "All clear."

"Aaaaand...I'm in. The party has arrived," Becca cheerfully informed them. "By the way, who exactly puts a vault in the basement of a random office building? Seems a little weird, guys."

"That would be a rich criminal that wants a safe place for all his illegally obtained toys," her grandfather knowingly replied.

"You know this from experience, Odin?" Riza asked, small smile on her face, swiftly crouching down to shield herself from the guard passing by the door to the stairwell.

"Maybe...maybe not." He chuckled. "A thief never reveals his tricks."

"Umm...that's a magician, you old perv," Becca rejoined, the grin carrying through in her voice. "Get your sayings right."

"Sounds like a good business for us to get into," Denny commented. "I got _my_ retirement plan."

"You're not leaving us yet, Freyr," Riza replied. "Sig? Update?"

"Looks clear...I see no sign of our FBI friends. Just a bunch of guards below." There was some typing and then he added, "If the Feds are here, they suddenly got really good at the low-pro thing."

"Copy...I'm moving." She exited the stairwell and strode in the direction of another near the center of the building that would actually take her to the basement. Winding her way through cubicles, she checked her watch and dove under a desk, watching a guard's receding feet a moment later.

"Me too," Becca added, continuing a moment later. "So, this crazy-rare and super-expensive red diamond we were talking about?"

Fuery chuckled. "I know it's in the vault right now...but I'll see what else I can find out."

"And I'm totally serious, by the way," the brunette continued. "...about the other thing."

"We're back to this?" Riza chuckled, speaking low. "You mean how you want me to steal Isabella Rossellini's DNA? I think you're getting more crazy by the day." She reached the end of an aisle and, still keeping an eye on her watch, moved into the nearest hallway precisely when the second hand reached the three, at which point there was a guard-free window.

"Umm, no...this is actually totally logical. I met her, and we definitely share some elements of our bone structure."

"You do look a bit like her...I'll give you that." Once in the hallway she was able to walk more rapidly, taking one hall and then another that would lead her directly to her destination.

"I knew you'd come around. So, here's my theory...Isabella had me in the States after a steamy love affair with some extremely handsome mystery guy."

"Right, so by extension, you're related to Ingrid Bergman."

"Yeah, it's no wonder I'm such an excellent actress."

Riza gave her friend an amused smirk when they met on the stairs. "You're not just an actress...you're a grifter, which I think is much more impressive."

"Aww...thanks. So you'll think about it?" They started to descend together, equipment in hand.

She chuckled. "I'll think about it. I still don't think that's who we saw in that coffee shop in Florence, though."

"Oh my god! Yes it _was_!" Becca 's voice was playfully exasperated, and then she gave a shrug. "She likes to check up on me...see how I'm doing."

"Not only is Isabella your biological mother, but she is also capable of keeping tabs on a grifter that technically does not exist...That's one cool mom."

"Your Mom was still cooler."

"She was _our_ Mom, Freya," the blonde replied, nudging her friend with her elbow. When they reached the second basement level Riza secured the door into the basement proper and knelt by the air-duct, quickly removing the screws holding it in place.

Becca knelt next to her and softly said, "Thanks." She pulled from the bag everything they would need to access the vault and started to set them out.

"It's the truth." She moved the grate to the side and took a look inside the duct, making sure there were no security measures immediately visible that they had not known about. "Okay, looks like we're..."

"Ahh...guys?" Fuery interrupted her. "We have a _huge_ problem."

She stopped working and her brow furrowed as she shared a look with Becca. "What's up, Sig?"

"The Dark Web is blowing up right now...I'm seeing chatter that the Philosper's Stone was stolen from some storage facility, and Mustang's team are suspects." He paused, incredulous. "I have no idea how this happened without our knowledge. Through Barry we know about pretty much any job that goes down... _anywhere_."

"Unless whoever did this was completely buttoned up...that's the only way," Rebecca added. "I mean, even Olivier is looking into it, along with her family, who's basically the Armstrong mafia."

"And they're trying to pin it on Mustang?" Riza shook her head, bewildered. "There's no way...that guy isn't just _on_ the straight and narrow, he practically owns it."

Rebecca laughed. "He owns it...I liked it."

The blonde thought for a moment, running everything through her mind. "Sig, how close are we to the video you've been processing?"

"Well, an entire half-hour was missing, and whoever cleared it knew their shit. I've had a program working constantly since your visit to the repository, but it takes _time_ to recover all that data. I'll see what I can piece together with what I have so far." After a pause he said, "And I let the Ice Queen know...she's on the phone."

"Okay, add her to the party line." She waited a moment and said, "Ice Queen?"

"Sig filled me in," Olivier's voice came through the comm. "I need you to be my eyes...I can't get away right now."

She chuckled. "I'm still in the middle of that _other_ thing we talked about, but we'll finish up and head over. At least we know the man on the inside knows Mustang well enough to do this." Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket. _Barry: Are you seeing this?_ She replied: _Yes...They kept you out? Barry: Yes, my darling. And I am not pleased._

"You don't think Mustang could have done it." It was not a question, Olivier was making a statement based on what she'd heard and how well she knew Riza.

She sighed. "If it's only a question of ability, yes, I'm sure he could. But I'm also certain he didn't."

"Maybe a member of his team?" Olivier thought aloud, before adding, "How soon can you be at the warehouse?"

After mentally reviewing one of their back-up plans she said, "Give us forty minutes."

"I'll get you a window for two Millers, find out what you can."

"Will do." Once Olivier was off the line she said, "Sig, get me cameras at the facility. Freyr, Odin, go keep an eye on Mustang and his people...see what happens. Freya and I will take care of this...don't worry, we have explosives."

Grumman chuckled. "If I didn't know you well, my dear, that would be a worrisome comment."

Riza smiled. "Be careful, General."

Becca gave a little jump. "Oooh...it's like _ladies_ ' night...And have I ever told you it's hilarious that you call him the General?"

"Maybe once or twice...Ladies' night is gonna have to be quick and dirty." She replaced the grate while Becca re-packed their bag and they approached the door. "I'll run point." At her friend's nod she opened the door, making sure it closed noiselessly, and they crept along the dim hallway. There was one guard up ahead and she stealthily stepped behind him, slamming his head into the wall with her right hand just as he turned and removing his taser with the other.

He fell unconscious and she stepped toward the next man, who dropped while shaking uncontrollably with the leads of the taser on his chest. She grabbed the muzzle of the next guard's weapon, pointing it down and away even as a shot fired off, and jabbed her hand at his neck. He clutched himself, coughing, and she grabbed his head to bring it down to her rising knee. The gunshot attracted others and two men approached them at once. Riza kicked the rising gun from one guard's hand and he landed a punch to her side, causing her bend slightly. She grasped his shoulder and pulled, bringing her knee to his gut before kicking him into the guy behind him.

Turning, she dropped and swept a leg under the guard attacking Rebecca, gripping his chest and helping him land on the concrete floor more forcefully. Spinning to her feet she grabbed the next enemy's approaching fist and twisted, kicking sideways at his knee and then at his groin. She faced the next man only to see him drop from a taser, and she glanced at Becca with an appreciative grin. "Time to pop the vault." They walked quickly to the door, setting to work placing strips of explosive around the perimeter. Once done, they moved around the corner and remotely detonated the substance, returning moments later to pull open the door.

"The diamond is box 183, guys. The rest you know," Fuery informed them.

Stepping inside, they quickly picked the locks on box numbers 183, 224, and 238, respectively, dumping the contents into a bag they brought with them. They were out in under two-minutes, and as they walked away Becca commented, "Mmm…I bet that is one sexy diamond."

Riza grinned, feeling exhilarated. "I bet it is." They took the stairs rapidly, getting out of the building as quickly as possible.

As they headed toward the car, Becca added, "I'll drive."

"Do you promise we won't almost die like last time?" she asked, smiling in amusement.

"Hold on...I thought we established that was not my fault."

"We definitely did _not_ establish that," Fuery cut in and Riza chuckled, receiving a glare from her brunette friend. "By the way, I pieced together the video...I'm trying to polish it. Someone definitely arrives and shoots Gavilán, but I can't tell who yet."

* * *

Two hours later, give or take some time, she and Rebecca pulled into the parking lot at what had recently become an incredibly popular FBI warehouse. Finding a space, they parked and got out, taking determined steps to the front door which was the only entrance since the entire building had been cordoned off. She had donned a black wig and glasses to match her agent persona, while Rebecca had to brave the blonde wig once more.

Riza walked up to the guard at the entrance and flashed her CIA badge, saying, "Agent Miller, Department of Counter Intelligence with the CIA. This is my partner, Agent Miller."

"Agents Miller and Miller, huh?" The man eyed them skeptically and gestured between them, asking, "You two related?"

Becca smirked. "I'm afraid that's classified Agent."

The approach of a short, muscular agent with a receding hairline cut off the FBI agent's potential response. Examining the women critically, he said, "Walters?"

"They're CIA, sir...Department of Counter Intelligence."

"Ah, yes. I'm Special Agent Fitzgerald," the new arrival said, offering Riza his hand, which she shook. "I spoke to your superior. I'm not sure what interest she has in this site, but I'm all for inter-agency cooperation."

"We have our orders, Agent Fitzgerald, same as you," Rebecca replied with the shrug of a shoulder.

He waved them through. "I've ordered other personnel to wait here, but I'm going with you."

Riza watched him and, determining that she did not have the time to convince him to stay behind, she led the way through the doors against the current of exiting agents and police officers. Through her earpiece, Fuery spoke to her. "I have the recordings for the building and the surrounding streets. Watching them now."

They glanced around the surveillance room, and then started their search at the beginning of the storage area. As they walked, she slipped her phone out and messaged Fuery: _Send_ _Barry_ _stills_ _of_ _everyone on Ice Queen's list._

She observed the building with a careful eye, trying to decide how she would have infiltrated it herself, and how other thieves might do so. At one emergency exit they found blood, and Fitzgerald informed them that two agents had been found dead outside that door. Not too far from that location could be found a storage cage, and Riza entered in order to examine the vault that contained the Stone. It was professional grade and extremely well-made, with steel bars that ran the width of the door. This one, however, had not been forced, so the thief either had the combination or opened it by touch and made his notes elsewhere. What she found to be even more interesting was that the safe was full of slots containing plans and schematics, with no place for a weapon like the Philosopher's Stone to fit. If only the plans were stolen, she wondered who had the weapon itself. And what the hell were plans for something like the Stone doing in a random FBI storage facility?

Riza stood and left the cage, moving to finish their survey of the warehouse. Down one aisle-way, which led directly to another exit, they found an additional location sporting several drops of blood. There, Fitzgerald explained, they had found the agent-in-charge lying face down and unconscious. She continued on to the door and opened it, observing what was beyond and determining that it would have been the thief's ideal exit. She sent a message to Fuery asking him to hack a few cameras and, after they had viewed the entire building, the two women thanked Agent Fitzgerald for his assistance and left.

Jumping into the passenger seat, Riza leaned on the center console, lost in thought and processing everything they'd found. "Okay, off the top of my head the thieves we could be dealing with would be Mr. Grey, Perault, Slim Jake, and Terrence." She toyed with her phone absentmindedly as Rebecca drove. "They have all been known to kill on the job, could handle that safe by touch, and wouldn't be afraid to knock over a government site."

Fuery jumped in. "The video was out for a short time until Agent Breda managed to get power, and the cameras didn't catch anything before the theft."

"Fitzgerald said that Agent Maria Ross was fired at, and Mustang saved her. But why take that shot? It was unnecessary." Rebecca thought aloud. "Was it just so they wouldn't find out immediately that they stole the plans and not the weapon?"

"You're right, it's odd. That wouldn't be a good way to plant more evidence because Mustang's team would verify that he was definitely not the guy that shot at Ross."

Rebecca nodded as she contemplated. "With no video record, though, it'd be the word of Mustang's team against the rest of the evidence. People might think his whole team was involved."

"I got a response from Barry," Fuery informed them. "A John Doe was just found dead behind a bar in D.C. It's Terrence." He paused before adding, "Also, I'm picking up chatter that Mustang and his team will be suspended while the investigation proceeds."

"Shit...whoever this is has some serious pull." Riza shook her head. "Freya, take us to the D.C. safe-house."

"What do you have in mind?"

She stripped off her shirt, changing out of her CIA outfit. "Well, someone is seriously fucking Mustang and his team over...and we're the only ones that know about it. I'm going to have to talk to him."

"Holy shit." Fuery's voice held a great deal of surprise, and she shared another look with Becca. "I proofed the video from the night Gavilán died...You're not gonna _believe_ this."

* * *

Later that same evening, for reasons partially beyond his comprehension considering recent events, Roy was seated at a table in a small restaurant in downtown D.C. The table was relatively secluded, with an acceptable view of both the front entrance and the hall leading to the restrooms, the kitchen, and the rear exits. He had agreed to meet Raven, who had some updates for him and who, for some reason, decided they should meet in public. He was most certainly having second thoughts since a large part of him wanted to stay home with a bottle of whiskey. Overall, he felt as though he was losing his mind, and could not determine their ideal next step.

A waiter arrived and he ordered a beer for himself, noticing how naked he felt without the badge in his pocket and a firearm at his hip. He shook his head as his ruminations again turned to everything that had happened. He still had a difficult time believing it. He'd raked his hands through his black hair so many times that it likely stood straight, and he very much wanted to go to the range and fire off a ludicrous number of rounds. The scar on his abdomen from when Berthold had shot him seemed to twinge, as if realizing how pissed he was and thinking it was the perfect time to remind him of _that_ fiasco.

His eyes rose when he heard the door open and he gave Raven a nod when he saw him walking through the entrance. The man was so tall, he seemed to barely fit in the restaurant at all, and when he sat the table was comically small compared to him.

The two men shook hands. "Well, kid, how are you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." He took a drink of his beer and glanced around the restaurant, exhaling heavily. "This is bullshit, Gene." Hughes had been furious, too, when he told him everything that had gone down.

"Shit, you're preaching to the choir." Raven glanced around, looking for the server. "We'll get this all sorted out, but it will take time. I know that's not what you want to hear."

"As long as my team comes out clean. We didn't have anything to do with this." He looked up again as the front door opened, and he saw a woman enter and scan the room, apparently looking for someone. She glanced at him, not quite catching his eye, then made her way to the bar and took a seat. The woman ran a hand through blonde hair and it briefly reminded him of the phone-drop in that bar in Paris.

"I know. I have agents scouring everything they can get their hands on. There has to be something tying it back to the true culprits somewhere." He paused. "I'll be honest, I still like Loki for it. You were getting close, maybe she spooked and decided to try to get rid of you."

Roy shrugged, his facial expression showing his skepticism. "I don't know. That crew is..."

Suddenly, Raven held up a hand to stop him as he looked at his phone. "Sorry, kid. I have to take care of something. I'll call you later."

" _What_ …?" His voice betrayed his frustration and indignation as he watched, wide-eyed, as the older agent rose from the table without another word and quickly exited the restaurant. He stared at the door for a few seconds, mouth open in shock, as he considered what just happened, and wondered why Raven ran out of here like his ass was on fire.

The server naturally chose that moment to return to the table and, picking up the menu, Roy said, "Just one second...I'll take a quick look."

He was wondering if perhaps he should just finish his beer, call it a night, when someone took possession of the empty seat to his right around the square table. He looked up, puzzled, to find the woman that he had seen walk into the restaurant only minutes beforehand. She was quite pretty, with lustrous hair hanging down over one shoulder and dark, mocha-brown eyes that met his own. Her features bore a slightly amused smirk, and she only looked away when the waiter said, "Good evening, miss. Could I get you something to drink?"

"Good evening." She smiled as she took the menu he handed her and rapidly perused it. "I'll have a glass of chardonnay and the Three-Lily Soup, please."

As she spoke he became progressively more angry, his curious grin turning to a thin-lipped expression of ire. It was _her_ : that voice, the face he'd seen only in glimpses. It was _Loki_. Her gaze again found his when she'd finished her order, eyebrows slightly raised in a questioning glance. The waiter directed his attention back to Roy and said, "And for you, sir?"

He barely even heard the man, his fury having resurfaced with a vengeance as he thought about the suspension, his superiors' suspicions of him, his team. He did not need to be mocked by the pain-in-the-ass thief they had been chasing.

Not surprisingly, she recognized the anger on his face and even as he made to stand she placed a hand on his leg to stop him. She watched him, waiting for his next move and giving him a look he thought simultaneously meant, 'You _really_ need to stay' and 'By the way, I have a gun.' In the next moment, she handed the waiter the other menu and said, "Yes, he'll have another pale ale, along with the Scottish Lamb Stew." As soon as the server left she leaned toward him with a smile, as if they were on a date, and spoke softly. "I know you're innocent, Agent Mustang."

He held Loki's gaze as he drank his beer and absorbed the word 'innocent,' taking into account everything he knew of her, little though it was. She was obviously clever, had managed to keep a step ahead of them on multiple occasions, and had a mysterious connection with the CIA. No matter what, it was a fact that he no longer had his badge and would be unable to arrest her anyway. It might be worthwhile to hear what she had to say.

He slipped his phone from his pocket, wanting to let Hughes know that Loki had found him, and looked back up at her almost immediately. "My phone's not working." It caused an unusual combination of amusement and irritation.

She shrugged a shoulder with a smirk. "Hmm...That's odd." Loki leaned back briefly when the server brought their drinks and then sipped her wine. "I'm not here to gloat at your misfortune, Mustang. I think we can help each other."

He leaned on the table, keeping his own voice low. "First, let's talk about why the hell I should even believe a word you say. I can't be sure it wasn't you that set me up."

"Of course it wasn't." She sipped her beverage again, her expression implying he had just made a wholly asinine claim, and seemed at least mildly affronted by the suggestion. "Two guards dead, the shot on Agent Ross, the vault and cage just left open like that." She shook her head. "You know that's not our style. I like to think that our _alleged_ work is a bit more elegant."

He stared at her. "How could you _possibly_ know all that?"

"We have our ways." Her eyes stayed on his, and she was giving nothing away.

"Then you know I'm being watched...closely."

Her smirk made another appearance. "I think you'll find they're busy at present."

He once more sat back as the server set bowls in front of them and they each tasted their meals. Roy had to admit that, though he should probably be more concerned that he was dining with a criminal he'd been hunting, he was intrigued. She showed up, out of the blue, with more information than she should reasonably have. It was safe to say there was more to Loki and her team than he initially thought. And, as of that morning, he was no longer an active Special Agent with the FBI. In truth, he was still a little salty about that. "Shouldn't I at least know the real name of my dinner date?"

"That depends on you, Agent Mustang. I have a proposition for you."

"Will it convince me not to restrain you and call the cops?" He no longer had the authority to arrest her, but someone else could.

"Right, because your attempts to restrain me have worked so well in the past." She smiled as she reached for her glass.

He chuckled lightly. "Touché...I'll listen to your proposal, but I'm not promising I'll accept." He took a bite of his stew, washed it down with the ale, and was pleasantly surprised by how well they complemented each other. He gestured with his spoon. "This is really good, by the way."

Loki took a breath and said, "I can help you restore your good name, and that of your team."

He looked up at her, hoping she was not simply trying to manipulate him by pressing that button. "You have my attention." He did not exactly like that she knew that was all she would have to say.

Curling blonde hair behind an ear, she leaned closer and found his gaze. "I suggest we work together to recover certain...items, and in doing so get the proof you need to clear your names."

"And how do you know about certain _items_?" More and more seriously he began to consider that she was in all likelihood CIA, but he would need some proof to buy it completely.

"I told you once that things aren't always as they seem...I'm giving you the chance to know the truth." Opening her clutch, she reached into it and removed two envelopes, a business card, and a phone. Handing the items to him beneath the table, she said, "All I ask is that you read these before you decide. Take a look at envelope number one first. Think of the second as an olive branch...to begin mending our broken fences."

"And the phone?"

"Use it to call the number on the card within twenty-four hours...if you decide you're interested. Your own phone is tapped." She paused to drink, gesturing with the glass. "Give the receptionist the name Scott Mansfield. She will provide you with additional information if necessary."

"This is all very cloak-and-dagger." He smiled in amusement, feeling like he was in a spy flick.

Loki chuckled lightly. "How do you think I've survived as long as I have?" She took another taste of the soup, finished the wine, and stood, placing money sufficient to cover the bill on the table. She paused, and when he looked up at her again her expression held honest sympathy. "I am truly sorry about what you'll find in the second envelope. But I've always believed that everyone has a right to the truth."

He gazed at her in confusion after her last comment as, with one final smile, she turned and left the restaurant. As she walked away he watched her, and then the envelopes caught his eye once more and all other thoughts were pushed aside. The past twenty-four hours had been some of the strangest of his life, and he rather hoped the roller-coaster would be over soon.

Roy finished his meal, downed the rest of the beer, and let Loki's cash take care of everything seeing as she had left enough even for a generous tip. Stuffing the items she had given him into various pockets so the agents tailing him would not see them, he exited the building and headed for his vehicle. From there, he drove home, locked the door, and checked his apartment for cameras and other bugs. Satisfied that the FBI had not gone to such lengths to watch him after he'd removed the other devices they planted, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the table to look over everything.

The phone was completely ordinary, and on top of that was likely a cheap burner. The business card bore only a phone number, in what appeared to be Times New Roman font, with no accompanying information of any kind. He opened the first envelope and took a drink as he unfolded the pages, nearly losing beer through his nostrils as he fully realized what he was seeing in the photo on top. It was clearly Raven, with a man Roy recognized as Solf J. Kimblee, an especially slimy criminal and arms dealer. In the lower right-hand corner, in unfamiliar handwriting that could have been Loki's, was written: ' _New Orleans, Louisiana. Two weeks ago_.'

"Holy. Shit. That fucking bastard." His boss, Raven, the man he thought was doing everything he could to _help_ him had in reality been the one setting him up. His hands formed fists but he tried to force them to relax, attempted to keep his fury in check in order to think objectively. He recalled that before, when Gavilán tried to steal the Stone, there had been rumors that Kimblee was interested in the weapon. If he was behind this, it was possible his boss had been working for the arms dealer the entire time.

Below the first came another photo, set in the warehouse where Gavilán was shot, which showed Raven's arrival. There was a short note in the corner: _Check the time stamp._ When he did, he realized it was a full thirty minutes prior to the time his boss had listed in his report of that night. Plenty of time to shoot his partner and then 'find' him dead.

He shook his head, moving on to the next photo which depicted the records repository Roy himself had visited a few weeks ago, this one of a man he did not immediately recognize. _Terrence Wilson,_ _a now dead_ _thief implicated in numerous_ _crimes_ _around the world. Stole all files pertaining to the Stone, Berthold Gavil_ _án, and the night you were shot. Files that conveniently disappeared the same evening you were at the repository._ How did they know all this?

Then there was another photo, more grainy than the others, that must have been from some random security camera. It showed Raven in an alley with the thief in the previous image, and they were exchanging bags. After the photos there were several sheets of paper detailing the purchase of the gun registered in his name that he never bought, the use of his ID to access the cage, the use of his credentials to delete all digital copies of the missing files, that _Raven_ asked for their suspensions, the contract offered by Kimblee for his assassination, etc. He sipped again and shook his head as he thought, _Alright, Loki. You_ _still_ _have my attention._

He exhaled slowly as he eyed the second envelope, afraid of what it might contain and unabashedly curious at the same time. Taking yet another drink, possibly to prepare himself, he picked it up and opened it, slipping another stack of folded papers and photos from within. The instant he flattened them, the pile fell from his hands and he quickly stood, taking a couple steps back from the table. Not for the first time that day, his jaw hung slack and his wide eyes gazed without seeing.

From the table top, a crime scene photo depicting his dead, blood-soaked parents stared up at him. "What the _fuck_ , Loki?" he muttered to himself. "What is this?" Suddenly, he was nine again, eyes locked on his parents prone forms as they lay on the kitchen floor, his entire world blown to bits. He paced around the room several times, hand alternately rubbing his jaw, covering his mouth, or running agitatedly through his hair.

When he'd finally calmed and regained control of the pit in his chest, he sat back down and began to visually examine the documents. He knew they came from a CIA file, having seem them before on multiple occasions, and took a few minutes to check the various stamps, watermarks, and other security features. He then gingerly picked up the photo, and there was a note at the top: _Your parents were confidential informants_ _who gave the CIA information on_ _Solf J._ _Kimblee_ _'s father_ _._ Examining the photo as closely as he was able, he noticed more handwriting in the corner: _Two in the chest, one in the head. A classic hit, not your average_ _'_ _theft-gone-wrong._ _'_

The angry part of him felt she was being a little too cheeky with that comment, while his more rational side explained that it was a valid, clinical observation. Roy took a long swig of beer and tried to breath deeply, though it was difficult with his rapid heart-rate.

He then took out the next photo, which was a close-up of both the bodies that focused on their torsos. Partially tucked inside his Dad's shirt pocket and tossed atop his Mom's stomach were small, black cards. They were identical in size and shape with the same symbol on the front: the uppercase Phi (Φ) from the Greek alphabet. There was another note, with an arrow pointing to each card: _The calling card of a young Solf Kimblee, in his early days as a hitman for his father_.

He stood so fast his chair flew backwards, his hands clenching into fists even as he fought the urge to punch a hole in the wall. He could not resist the impulse entirely, and settled for throwing a paperweight against the lone exposed-brick wall in his apartment. Roy made a few more absentminded circuits of his living room, disquieted and lost in thought. _This whole fucking time they had been murdered_. Fortunately for him, he now had the opportunity to go after the motherfucker and hopefully put a bullet or two somewhere excessively painful.

He had been so young when he found them that he accepted the burglary-gone-awry story for the truth. As he got older he started to wonder if he remembered everything accurately, if that story was true, especially since no one would tell him about it. He'd had no other theories, but he did learn not to take things at face value. Therefore, once he'd calmed himself as much as possible, he righted the chair and took a seat along with a drink. He could clean up the paperweight later.

What ensued was a careful review and critique of all the information in the file on his parents' death. He did his best to remain objective and, in the end, he had to admit that the file she'd given him had merit. When he looked at the clock, he determined it was time to collapse on his bed and digest everything he'd seen and heard that day. He had quite a bit to consider, and a decision to make regarding Loki and her offer.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews:**

Hermit Crab: Thank you! So glad you're enjoying the story! And I loved your 'holy plot twist batman' comment :)

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	7. The Millers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! Responses to guest reviews from chapter 6 can be found at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

 **The Millers**

Roy Mustang had lost track of time, but he thought it must be early morning judging by the still present darkness and the hours he'd been lying motionless. He had a mild headache from all the beer he had consumed while reading the files, and his mouth had an unpleasant post-alcohol taste. And still he lay on his bed, staring up at the swirled pattern on his ceiling as he had done for much of the night.

He was in general more methodical, but after the previous night his mind could only buzz, ruminating until he solved the current problem. Unfortunately, this was one problem he could not fix on his own. That fact alone drove him insane seeing as he assumed responsibility for the situation his team found itself in. Betrayed by Gene Raven, his boss, a man he'd trusted. He should have known, should have _seen_ something.

Part of him must have been aware, even at the moment Loki made her offer, that he would need her help. The fact was they needed her help. His agents were certainly talented, but in his professional opinion his group stood little chance on their own. Their clearances had been revoked and they were being watched with an infuriatingly close eye. Not only that, but someone had tried to kill him and it was only a matter of time until they tried again, or went after a member of his team.

He still had his doubts, and he did not particularly relish having to rely on people about whom he knew next to nothing, but his gut told him he could trust her. His intuition was generally right, save for the cases of Raven and Gavilán, and in spite of the circumstances surrounding their first interactions he felt Loki was reliable. She could have killed him or Havoc back at the museum, and when she spoke about the second envelope, which contained the information on his parents, she seemed genuinely sympathetic.

Roy was quite certain that file was the main reason for his mind being stuck in one gear for several hours. He had seen it all before first-hand, had found them himself, and looking at all the crime scene photos had brought it all back. He tried to be as objective as possible, but the images ran through his mind during the night. His head churning with the details an FBI agent would notice that a confused and frightened boy would have mercifully missed. The lack of defensive wounds that meant they never had the opportunity to fight back, dead eyes frozen in fear, powder burns from being shot at close range. It infuriated him that since the age of nine he had been fed the 'theft gone wrong' story when, in reality, they were murdered by a contract killer. He finally knew the truth.

He rolled over and into a seated position, picking up the phone and card Loki had given to him at the restaurant. When he turned the screen on he saw that it was 0400 and hesitated momentarily, wondering if anyone would answer the phone. He shrugged and shook his head: _Y_ _ou_ _may be_ _tired, but don't be an idiot._ _It's the CIA_.

He dialed the number and pushed himself to his feet, walking slowly into the kitchen. Roy set the phone on the counter, downed a glass of water, and started a pot of coffee. Feeling a touch better, he made the call and listened to it ring a few times as he made his way to the living room, dropping down on the couch.

Suddenly, a man's voice answered. "Thank you for calling C&P Unlimited, how may I direct your call?"

He cleared his throat again. "Ahh...Scott Mansfield, please."

"One moment, sir."

A few clicks cut through the silence as the call was transferred and then a woman spoke. "Good morning, Mr. Mansfield. The car will meet you at the corner of Fifth and Linde at 0530. You will have a window at 0500. Have a pleasant trip."

Before he could say anything there was another click and the line went dead. He took the phone from his ear and looked at it for a second, amused smile starting to curve his lips. Roy also started to wonder if he'd lost his mind. Tossing the phone down on the couch he stood again and headed toward the bathroom, taking off his shirt in the process. He started the shower and stopped in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink with a yawn. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and he realized he had not looked quite so hellish since his and Hughes' parties in college, the majority of which were accompanied by bad decisions.

Once he was decent, he busied himself with activities like making breakfast and cleaning his firearm. He found he was in need of some normalcy, given the past few days and the fact that he had essentially just agreed to work with Loki. After he finished, he holstered the weapon at his back and strode toward the window, peeking out at his ever-present FBI shadow. According to his watch, he still had ten minutes and walked back in the direction of his bedroom.

Dropping to his knees in front of his closet, he deftly popped up the loose floorboard there, pulled out the metal box, and removed a few bundles of cash from his emergency reserves. One of his Aunt's most oft-repeated nuggets of wisdom was, 'Always keep enough cash on hand to get yourself out of trouble.' Her description of the nature of said trouble had always been annoyingly vague. Then Roy went to college with Maes Hughes. And then he understood.

He replaced the box and the floorboard before once more verifying the location of his tail and checking the time. With just a couple minutes left, he moved to the back of his apartment, slipping Loki's envelopes and burner phone in to his jacket in the process. When 0500 hit he heard a crash from the general direction of his FBI tail and climbed out the window. He rapidly descended the fire escape and hailed a cab the moment he reached the sidewalk. "Welker and James, please," he told the driver as he claimed the back seat and closed the door.

"Sure thing, man."

The faint scent of weed rose from the driver and as they pulled away from the curb he lowered himself in the back seat, grateful that the windows were tinted. When they passed the cross-street the FBI agents had been parked on, a few chuckles escaped him. They had been rear-ended and both men were out of the car in a shouting match with the other driver. He could not deny he felt an odd sort of satisfaction.

As they drove, he took a look around the car, making sure he had not inadvertently thrown himself into a trap. From what he could tell, they were not being followed, and when they stopped at the corner indicated he handed the driver some of the cash he'd brought. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The taxi drove away and he walked with the flow of foot traffic toward the subway entrance just down the street. He glanced in any windows he passed, trying to identify any potential tails. Despite the fact he did not see any, he decided to take two trains before finally arriving at the corner of Fifth and Linde at 0530. He was hardly there a minute before a black, slightly sporty vehicle with tinted windows came to a stop right in front of him.

The window rolled down and he bent somewhat to look inside, finding Loki in the driver's seat, looking much more awake then himself. "Get in." Roy slid into the passenger seat as the window rose and as soon as the door was shut she drove, merging with traffic and lifting a cup from the center console. "Morning, Agent Mustang. Coffee?" She wore a light gray suit jacket with matching slacks and a white, button-down shirt. Sunglasses were perched on the top of her head, and her hair hung freely, the sunlight bringing out the gold in her tresses.

"Morning...Thanks." He contemplated the cup for a second. "Please tell me this isn't decaf."

She chuckled as she changed lanes. "Definitely not."

"Excellent." He took a sip, despite the fact it was still scalding. "I didn't think you'd be my driver."

"Freya actually really wanted to be here, but the opportunity to rear-end a couple feds was too great for her to pass up."

He grinned, keeping an eye on the route she was taking. "That's an interesting hobby."

"One of her favorites." Loki sipped her own coffee.

"Can I ask where we're going?"

"You can ask." She gave him a small smirk and then checked her rear-view before gazing through the windshield again. "We're going to meet someone." She glanced at him. "Did you bring the envelopes I gave you?"

"Yes. I wasn't about to leave them in my apartment." It was a little odd to be in the car with her, chatting and drinking coffee as if they did not start off on different sides. And now that he thought about that, technically they had been working for the same side the entire time.

She considered him for a moment, and then nodded. He was not sure what that meant, but thought that perhaps she understood, or even approved of, his caution. Then she added, after a moment's hesitation, "I'm the only one that saw the file."

Roy knew she must have meant the second one. "Thank you."

Loki only nodded again, taking a left and picking up speed.

He hesitated for a second, sipping the coffee. "I have to ask...how did you know?"

Her lips curved. "Not to dodge, but I think that question will be answered shortly."

A few minutes later they pulled into a parking garage and she drove to the lowest level. From there, they strode toward a bank of two elevators, entered the one on the left, and she hit the button for the floor they were already on, holding it for five seconds. Loki then stepped back from the panel and sipped her coffee nonchalantly as the elevator began to descend, though according to the dial there was no basement.

It stopped a few floors below ground, accompanied by the usual cheerful sounding 'ding,' and they exited into an average, government-issue hallway. Beige walls, slightly darker beige carpet, and florescent lighting greeted them as followed the walkway. He was coming to the realization that Loki was not especially chatty and appreciated that, not feeling exceptionally talkative himself. And surprisingly, it was not an uncomfortable silence, rather an unfamiliar one since he knew so little about her.

They passed several doors, and at one point reached a metal gate that spanned the entire height and width of the hall. As she took a card out of her pocket and swiped it along the card reader, he thought it strange that they'd not seen another person since entering the garage. Once through the gate they stopped outside a door where she typed in a code and led them into an office.

At the dark mahogany desk at the other end of the room sat a woman with long, blonde hair. She was focused on her work, but looked up when they entered the room and then stood, setting a few papers back on the desktop. Her hair was long, ending far past her shoulders, and her eyes were a piercing blue. It took him a moment but, with no insignificant amount of astonishment, he realized he was looking at Olivier Armstrong, Director of Counter Intelligence with the CIA. He knew the CIA had a file on Loki, and this confirmed his suspicions that the thief was actually an agent.

The imposing woman held out her hand to him. "Special Agent Mustang."

He nodded, shaking her hand. "Director Armstrong."

"Good, you know who I am. That makes this easier." She paused to drink from a mug. "I'll get straight to the point, this meeting is taking place because I recognize that you may have doubts concerning one of my agents."

"I'm glad you understand."

"That said, Loki and her team are the most effective and useful assets I have at my disposal." She set her mug down. "The capacity in which you met her is part of her cover, which allows her more freedom to move within criminal circles. It is her team that I have tasked with the retrieval of the Philosopher's Stone...both the plans and the device."

His eyes widened as he looked from one woman to the other, shaking his head in disbelief, stomach sinking. The plans being stolen was dangerous enough, but if a man like Kimblee had an already functional device as well he could essentially control the black market. He could handpick buyers, threaten nations, and thus wield a terrifying amount of political influence. There was no doubt he would use the weapon if pressed.

If he had been holding onto even a sliver of healthy doubt or hesitation, it disappeared after receiving that news. He could not walk away knowing that an arms dealer was capable of building a deadly arsenal and possibly starting is own personal World War III. He did not have Kimblee's endgame entirely figured out yet, but it was a safe assumption that it would be something terrible.

Before Roy could respond, confirm that he was all in, he heard a phone nearby buzz and saw Loki reach into her pocket. She shared a look with her boss, brow furrowed, and said, "Hey, Sig. What's up?" He watched her and, though there was no change in her demeanor, he had a feeling it was more bad news. Finally, she nodded, told Sig 'Thanks,' and then looked up at him. "We'll have to cut this short. Your team has been taken into custody...we need to extract them."

He felt worry settle in his gut and took a breath, forcing it back in order to handle the situation clinically. "Taken to a black site, I'd guess?"

"That would be my guess. There's a new set of contracts...Raven's teeing them up."

"Shit." Anger built again at his boss' further betrayal and the fact that his team was once more in danger. She watched him, as if waiting for something, and he nodded to indicate that he was in, that the unexpectedly brief meeting had done its job. He heard the two women exchange brief goodbyes and followed Loki back out toward the car. Roy was determined to rescue his people, and he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

* * *

As they drove to the location Fuery sent her, Riza was formulating possible plans of attack for retrieving Mustang's team from federal custody. She ran through a mental inventory of everything available in the car she was using, and considered the various security measures they would likely encounter at a black site. A low-key infiltration with Becca would be ideal in order to avoid an alert going out, giving them time to disappear. As always, however, they needed to be prepared for anything.

For the most part, Mustang was able to conceal any anxiety he felt, but tiny hints were occasionally visible: brief tension in the neck, a hand through the hair, fingers lightly drumming on the coffee cup. That was in addition to the exhaustion she had noticed when he first joined her in the car a short time before. Sleep had clearly not come easily to him.

They were nearing their destination when she caught his eye momentarily, and recalled noticing his dark eyes in the bar in Paris. Now at a closer distance, it occurred to her that they might actually be black, which she had never seen before. He still seemed concerned, so she said, "Don't worry, Agent Mustang. We'll get them out safely." She paused as she reached into the center console, pulling out a small case with spare earpieces. "This isn't our first time."

He gave a chuckle, taking the comm she handed to him. "I don't doubt it." After a breath he added, "And please, call me Mustang, or Roy."

"Mustang it is." She nodded and on an impulse held out her hand, realizing that he still did not know her real name. "Riza Hawkeye, by the way…It's nice to officially meet you."

He shook her hand and eyed her, repeating "Hawkeye" as if pondering something. He then chuckled to himself and asked, "Is that your real name?"

Riza smiled. "It is." She fit the comm in her ear as she left the highway. "Okay, Sig, we're on. Everyone say hello to Agent Mustang."

"I have the cameras," Fuery replied immediately. "No word on who offered the contracts, but I'm sure we have a good idea."

"Almost to the party," Becca said in their ears. "So...Mr. Sexy Voice, looks like we have a little time to chat. Question number one on the Freya getting-to-know-you questionnaire: Are you currently seeing anyone?"

Riza heard him chuckle and she replied to her friend, parking their car a reasonable distance from the holding facility. " _Freya_. What have we said about boundaries?"

"Loki, my love, it's not an issue of recognition. I know right where the boundaries are, I just enjoy crossing them. Mr. Sexy Voice?"

"So that night we overheard your conversation..." He glanced over at her. "That wasn't just for our benefit. You guys really talk about random crap."

"Well, you have to have _fun_. It can't just be work, work, work all the time or you'll lose it completely. Right, Loki?" There was a brief pause and she said, "Heading to the North entrance."

"Of course, Freya." She shared a looked with Mustang and exited the car, adding, "On my way."

"I'm slowly teaching her," Becca continued. " _So_...we are back to the original question. Are you currently seeing anyone?"

"Ahh..." He laughed lightly, and must have correctly discerned that the other woman would not give up easily. "No, I am not."

"Ooh, handsome, mysterious, single... _interesting_. Question two: What's your stance on foreplay?"

He smirked. "I really don't think that's any of your business."

"He's playing hard-to-get."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it, Freya," Riza replied, falling into step next to her friend and shaking her head, unable to hold back a small smile. They followed the walkway up to the building, which was a nondescript, three-story structure. To anyone else it would look like the typical collection of offices, except this building was secured with rotating codes, encrypted cards, cameras, and trained guards. Mustang's team was being held in separate interrogation rooms, and the so-called interrogator was most likely a hitman. "You _could_ try something less invasive, like his favorite flavor of ice cream. You know, ease him into the crazy."

" _Fine_...It's boring, and unoriginal, but whatever. Okay, Mr. Sexy Voice...ice cream flavor, go."

"Vanilla." There was a touch of amusement in his voice, and she reasoned that he probably thought they were certifiable.

"Oh, mother of _god_..." Her friend's tone was one of complete exasperation, as if Mustang had said something completely off-topic like 'puppies are satan's minions.' "You're boring, just like Loki."

"Sometimes simple is best," Riza chimed in as they reached the door, which after a buzz popped open. They breezed through it and quickly moved into the nearest stairwell, climbing to the fourth floor. The stairwells in buildings such as that were rarely used, decreasing the probability that they would run into anyone on the way up.

"News flash, that's just another word for boring," Becca retorted, giving her a look that displayed a lack of appreciation for the blonde's ice cream preferences.

"I'm gonna have to say neopolitan...because I like options," Fuery suddenly added. "Okay, ladies, you will be exiting right in front of the guard desk."

"We already know _you_ , Sig," the brunette told him. "Mind your own business."

"I'm just being social...like _you_ always tell me to be." He paused. "Also, you talk about desserts a lot. It's an issue."

Riza laughed quietly when she heard Mustang's muttered, "Jesus...what have I gotten us into?"

She met Becca's eye as they neared the fourth landing and said, trying to catch her breath at the same time, "You're the flirty one."

"I'm always the flirty one," Becca replied, running her fingers through her hair, unfastening a couple buttons on her shirt, and readjusting her bra.

"It's because you're so great at it."

They stepped out of the stairwell as if they owned the building and flashed their badges in front of the guard on desk-duty. "Agent Leanna Miller, CIA"

Her friend smiled, biting a tiny portion of her lip upon making eye contact with the guard. "Agent Sarah Miller."

"Four prisoners are to be remanded into our custody...Agents Maria Ross, Heymans Breda, Jean Havoc, and Vato Falman."

The guard looked from one to the other, grinning confidently at Becca. "We were instructed not to hand them off to anyone."

"My orders come directly from the DCS," Riza responded. "And he wants them _now_."

"You're covered," Fuery said in her ear.

After a few keystrokes he looked something up in his computer. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was mistaken."

"Oh, these things happen." Becca gave a nonchalant wave and then moved closer to the guard. "I _love_ your glasses, by the way. They do wonderful things for your complexion."

"Thank you," he responded, leaning on the counter in her direction. "I just got them."

"We'll just go ahead and obtain those prisoners. Our boss already let the interrogator know that custody has changed," Riza continued, with an amused glance to her partner.

"Of course, Agent Miller. Rooms 3, 4, 11, and 12."

"Thank you...Mr. Jacobs," she replied, reading his name from the tag on his shirt. She walked down the hall with Becca and they split into rooms three and four to retrieve Agents Ross and Breda. The young woman in interrogation room three looked at her curiously, and then with surprise when Riza strode behind her, putting a hand on her arm to get her to stand. "Time to go, Agent Ross."

The young woman looked up at her sharply, pulling her arm from her grasp. "Why? Who are you?"

"Just tell her I say to do it," Mustang said in her ear.

Riza lowered her voice so the guard down the hall would not hear. "Mustang says you should cooperate."

"What's the codeword?"

"Butternut squash," Mustang helpfully told her.

"Butternut squash?" She chuckled. "Really?" At that moment the young woman stood, still cuffed, and looked at her expectantly.

" _Butternut squash_..." Rebecca said to her own prisoner, voice tinged with irritation. "And they think _we're_ the batshit ones. That is a sucky codeword." This last sentence was spoken to Riza's face, causing her to crack a smile, when both she and her friend were back in the hallway. "I mean, at least make it something people like to eat."

"Plenty of people like butternut squash." They strode toward the next set of rooms, keeping their voices low, and she checked the placards on the wall for room eleven.

"They say they do, but they really don't. It's all a goddamn conspiracy..."

Riza gave a laugh. "Note to self...squash is a tender topic."

"I hate you."

Agents Breda and Ross abruptly stopped walking, which brought the two women to a sudden halt. "Who the hell _are_ you people?" Maria Ross queried, brow raised and crinkled.

"We'll discuss that later." Riza glanced down toward the guard who smiled when Becca waved at him.

"Don't worry about him," her friend muttered. "The cute ones are so easy."

Riza opened the door to interrogation room eleven and pulled Agent Ross just inside the door, reaching over to put a hand on the other prisoner's arm as well. "Agent Havoc...care to join us?"

The man started to say, "What? Who the…?" and then stopped once he saw Maria Ross behind her. They looked at each other, nodded, and he allowed her to guide him to a standing position, after which they again met Rebecca and her agents in the hall.

"This is everyone, right?"

"Yes." Riza nodded. "Let's go." One hand on each agent, they strode down the hallway in the direction of the guard at his desk.

Rather than take the stairs, this time they piled into the elevator, Rebecca toying with her hair as she eyed the guard. "Thank you _so_ much for all your help, Mr. Jacobs."

The doors slid shut and she shook her head with a chuckle. "Laying it on a bit thick?"

"Well, if you..."

The brunette's reply was interrupted by Havoc, who said, "Can we talk about what the hell is going on here?"

Riza took out a pin and picked the locks on the cuffs, four sets dropping to the floor. "Everything will be explained soon. But right now we need to get out of here...your lives are in danger."

Breda absentmindedly rubbed a spot on his wrist that the metal had cut into slightly. "Where's the Boss?"

"He's in the car...just wait and he'll explain." All the FBI agents seemed unsure of the situation, but Breda especially was watching her quite suspiciously, and she wondered if he had somehow figured out who they were. The elevator opened again and the group walked toward the glass doors at the front of the building. "Falman, Breda...follow her. Havoc, Ross...you're with me."

The small group split, one set of three walking toward Rebecca's vehicle and the other toward Riza's where Agent Mustang awaited them. She climbed into the front passenger seat, fastening her seat-belt, while Ross and Havoc placed themselves in the second row. As soon has he was seated, Havoc glanced at her and leaned forward to speak to his partner. " _What_ is going on, Roy?"

They were all thrown back into their seats when Mustang accelerated quickly, merging with traffic. "The short version is that someone has put hits out on all of us..."

" _What_? Why?" Ross asked.

"We're loose ends...and now they want to get rid of us so we can't talk." He met Riza's eye for a moment. "Where am I going?"

"Get on the highway, head south."

Havoc looked at her and then back at his partner. "And who are our new friends?"

Mustang glanced at his mirrors and checked his blind spot as he merged onto the highway. "Havoc, Ross...meet Agent Riza Hawkeye, CIA." He paused, possibly for dramatic effect. "But you know her better as Loki."

She turned in her seat and offered her hand to each of them in turn to shake, but only Havoc took it. "It's nice to finally meet you both. Sorry again about shooting your leg."

"No shit...I _thought_ your voice sounded familiar." He grinned broadly. "So you really are CIA...can't say I'm surprised."

"Boss," Ross chimed in somewhat angrily. "You can't be serious. We're _working_ with them now? This is unbelievable."

"What choice do we have, Ross?"

"There has to be some other option."

"Raven is _in_ on it, guys. He fucked us over. Without Loki and her team, we have no way to clear our names." He paused again. "And without them, we wouldn't have known about the contracts offered on us."

"How do you know she isn't feeding you a bunch of lies? Really, _she_ could be the hitter."

Havoc interrupted her. "Ross, you know he wouldn't make this kind of call lightly."

She sighed. "I know. It's just...she's a _criminal_. We've been _chasing_ her."

Riza listened to the exchange as she gazed out the window, thoroughly unfazed by the other woman's sentiments. Her friend Rebecca, however, was an entirely different story, and her muttered tirade came through the earpiece. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?! I'll take her right back to that damn holding facility, if she wants. She'd probably be dead right now if not for us. But, oh no, we're criminals, stop the fucking presses..."

Sharing a brief look with Mustang, she softly said, "Cool it, Freya."

She was aware that there was a certain moral ambiguity to her occupation, as there was throughout the entire profession. Their cover gave them contacts and knowledge of which many agents could only dream. If the occasional theft meant they had the ability to stop catastrophes like a bombing in Germany or a deadly outbreak in the States, she could handle it. It did not hurt that it was fun and their targets were always pompous crooks.

Riza leaned forward in her seat, pointing ahead. "Take the next exit." Then, she looked in the side-view mirror and changed her mind. "Wait, keep going. I think we have company." To Becca she added: "Freya...keep driving. I have two unmarked, black SUVs behind us.."

"Damn...and I've got one more behind to my left. Who are these guys?"

At that moment they heard gunfire and everyone ducked as well as they could, jerking to the left when Mustang quickly swerved the vehicle. Riza raised herself back up and looked at all the mirrors, grabbing onto the door as Mustang veered again, this time to the right, to block one of their tails from passing them. Pulling the firearm from her shoulder holster, she handed it to Agent Havoc, recalling that he had some of the best marksmanship scores on his team.

She gestured toward the car to their rear that just tried to pass and he nodded as he turned in his seat and shot out the rear window. She then drew the pistol from her back, popped a round into the chamber, and rolled down her window. Unbuckling her seat-belt she spun in her seat and stuck her left arm out, aiming low as their other tail tried to pass on that side and trying to stay out of the line of fire. With an exhale, she squeezed off three rounds, one each to two tires and one to the driver as the car veered off the road.

She shielded herself behind the back of her seat as more shots came from the car following them and addressed her team. "Freya?" The gunfire died off as Havoc managed to debilitate the other tail.

"He's on my left...I had to move around another vehicle and it gave him an opening. There's a semi-truck between us, but not for long."

"Well, Mr. Sexy Voice," Riza began with a small, amused grin. "Mind rolling down your window?" Riza tossed the pistol to her right hand, leaned back, and stretched her arm out in the direction of the now open window, glancing ahead to establish a time-frame. "Freya...in five seconds...hit the brakes."

"Copy."

She waited, taking a calming breath and then exhaling. "Three...two...one." Their vehicle and the last remaining pursuer both flew past the cab of the semi-truck at that instant. Shots sounded but she forced herself to refrain from instinctively ducking away. She fired another three rounds, this time taking out the gunman in the passenger seat, the driver, and the only tire she could see.

As the other vehicle spun away, she took a deep breath, meeting Mustang's eye for a moment. He was watching her, as if trying to decide something, and she wondered briefly if he had somehow connected her to the shot in Paris that saved him. She pushed that thought away, turned back around, and directed him to take the next exit. There was no way he could have put that together already.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews:**

Hermit Crab - Thank you! I did put Mustang through a lot in that chapter. It's really so great to hear that you're looking forward to more :)

Guest (May 30) - Thank you so much! :)


	8. The City That Care Forgot (Part 1)

**Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

 **AN** : Hello everyone! I apologize for posting a bit late on this one. I've also been working on another story idea and that's the groove my brain got into for a little while, if that makes sense. I do still plan to have the next chapter up this coming Sunday. Responses to guest reviews for the last chapter can be found at the end of this post. I hope you like the new chapter!

* * *

 **The City That Care Forgot** (Part 1)

Just after 0300 the following morning, Roy waited with Hawkeye near Kimblee's residence, trying to understand how it could be so impossibly hot. It was the middle of the night, but the heat was still oppressive and the excessive humidity did not help matters. Every light breeze felt miraculous, and then it was gone in the blink of an eye. "I'll have to remember to never again come to New Orleans this time of year."

Hawkeye glanced at him, a small smile appearing at the comment. "This _is_ one of the hottest months. Things don't really cool down here until November-ish."

"Been here before, have you?" The property was located in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in the city and they stood with their backs to the stone wall surrounding it, keeping vigilant. He shot a look in her direction and realized that, though a light sheen was visible on her neck, she seemed largely unfazed by what he would call a warmth reminiscent of the fires of hell.

She smiled again, and it was mostly just an amused curve of the lips. "Once or twice."

"Pssh…Don't listen to her, Tyr, we used to live here," Freya interjected via comms, who Roy had learned was actually Rebecca Catalina, a talented grifter. "In position." He noticed the blonde did not appear exceptionally pleased by the added information, but she said nothing and he assumed she knew her friend would give away nothing of importance.

"No way," Breda replied in surprise. "I used to stay here with my aunt for the summer and we'd go to that ice cream place...Carmelo's, or something...all the time." After a second he added, "Hel and I are in position." He and Ross were stationed at the southern end of the property where a useful cable junction was located.

"Oh my god, Ymir...that was our _favorite_. They have the best mango ice cream in the _fucking world_. Right, Loki?"

"The best, Freya."

"Ahh...the target's plane lands in fifteen, gang," Fuery informed them. Roy had discovered, with a significant amount of shock, that Kain Fuery was basically a teenage genius that had worked with the team since it's creation. Breda had chuckled and shaken the kid's hand when he realized a nineteen-year-old had been kicking his ass all that time.

"We have an ETA," Hawkeye said. "Odin?"

"I'm all set with Mani," the older man responded. "Waiting to follow." When the teams had been introduced to each other at the safe-house in Virginia, he did not expect to have prior knowledge of any of them, until he recognized Odin. The man's name was Walter Grumman and he was infamous in law enforcement circles, having stolen billions from many rich and powerful people. Up until that moment, Roy believed him to be living peacefully in a country with grand mansions and a non-extradition treaty. While he did not reveal his knowledge anyone, he was itching to ask Hawkeye how a man like Grumman had ended up on her team.

"And BlackBird is _still_ midnight snacking at this bar," Freyr informed them from his position tailing Raven, a hint of frustration in his voice. "And in case you were wondering? Slowest...eater...ever." Denny Brosh went by the codename Freyr and had started off in special ops before being recruited by the CIA, the details of which were not shared. In fact, though the members of Hawkeye's team had shared what seemed to be their real names, none of them explained how they came to be working together. Granted, it was still early and they were all testing the waters, but he could not deny it intrigued him. He recalled telling Hughes not that long ago that he was only interested in arresting Loki and her team, not hearing their life stories. However, after meeting them and bearing witness to their family-like, playfully antagonistic dynamic that was so similar to his own team, he found he wanted to know more.

Roy shared a look with Hawkeye, who gave him a small nod that she was ready, and he said to the group at large, "Okay, let's do it." They turned and moved further south along the wall, slowing as they reached a wrought iron gate of vintage design set into the stone. While the wall itself was too tall to scale, the gate was around the average height of a door with a handle on the right.

He glanced around as she examined the lock and slipped a lock-picking set from her pocket. Then a couple things happened in quick succession: Catalina played the drunk party-goer and ran a 'borrowed' car into some bushes at the front gate to distract the guards, and Breda accessed the cable junction to overload the building's electrical systems.

"Okay, alarm system rebooting. Loki, you have thirty seconds before the perimeter is back up," Fuery added. The alarms monitoring the wall and its gates were deemed a priority since they were the first line of defense. The system in the house, however, would take at least another ten minutes to restart and recalibrate.

"Copy, Sig."

She had the gate popped before their computer guy had finished speaking and held it open so Roy could examine the alarm sensor itself. He glanced at the gate to look for anything conspicuous along the lock stile and his gaze then moved to the upper portion of the opening. With a small nod he muttered to himself, "It's a closed-circuit system," while he pulled a magnet from his pocket and affixed it to the sensor. The magnet would keep the circuit closed, and thus keep electricity moving, so they could leave the gate open but the alarm system would think it was secure.

He stepped into the backyard and she pushed the gate so it was nearly shut before they quietly paced toward the house, keeping to the shadows. Shouts muffled by distance could be heard from the other end of the property, evidence of Catalina's diversion at work. The home itself was not as large or extravagant as he would have expected, and instead was a clean-cut, brick building that rose two-stories. It was built in 1927 and boasted a partial basement that had originally been used for rum-running during the Prohibition era. It was this last detail that Roy figured was the reason for the home's unassuming appearance, and the aforementioned stone wall that provided a great deal of privacy.

"It looks like you'll have fifteen minutes before the house alarms are back on," Fuery added. He was quite capable of hacking the system, of course, but they were doing their best to remain unnoticed. A paranoid man like Kimblee would almost certainly notice a breach of that nature. Since their arms dealer had not yet arrived with his full security detail, they were hoping to get in and out without leaving any trace.

"Copy." When they came to a rear patio door they repeated the same process as before: Hawkeye picked the lock and he placed a magnet over the sensor as a precaution.

"We're in," Roy told them as the blonde tossed him a small bag of listening devices. Per their plan, she moved on to another room and he started in the office they entered, bugging the phone before cautiously entering the hallway. She would take care of half the first floor and the basement while he covered the rest of the first floor and the second story.

"Since quiet time is over, can we get back to talking about how you _own_ a private goddamn plane?" Havoc interjected via comms. "Because I was wondering if you were hiring since I seem to have chosen the wrong line of work."

"Going over to the dark side already?" Ross teasingly asked, and then added, "We're heading back."

"You should probably stick with the law-abiding-citizen thing, Dagr," Catalina replied. "And they threatened to call the cops, so I'm drunkenly stumbling away."

Roy listened as he worked, planting a device behind the mirror in a bathroom and affixing one to a light fixture in the dining room. From there, he strolled into the kitchen, clearing his portion of the first floor in a matter of minutes and continuing on to the second. The bugs were incredibly small and lightweight, much more streamlined and easier to conceal than the equipment provided by the FBI.

"Oh, she doesn't think I can hack it, but I'll prove her wrong," Havoc continued. "I'm in position...northwest hanger for private planes. It's pretty quiet."

"FYI, you'll fail miserably, dude," Breda chimed in. "You couldn't con a dentist out of a toothbrush."

"The joke's on you, Ymir, they give those out for free."

Roy gave a quiet laugh as he walked through a home gym, trying to decide on the best location for a bug and thinking he might need two. "I think that's his point."

"Whatever, so maybe the con is not my strong suit, but I have others. For instance, I'm a lot of fun on a date, Loki...in case you'd ever like to find out."

He heard someone snort their opinion of the invitation, and then Hawkeye softly said, "No thanks, Dagr. You're not really my type."

"What? Handsome and charming aren't your type?"

"Oh, no, they are." There was mirth in her tone, and Roy joined in the chuckles that followed her response as he placed a device in the master bedroom. While it was likely unnecessary to plant listening devices in the entire house, they were not sure when such an opportunity might again present itself and wanted to take full advantage of it. Who knew, Kimblee might like to conduct his business in the kitchen, and if his meeting with Raven took place somewhere in his home, they wanted to hear it.

Breda's cackled mercilessly. "Ooooooh...another crash and burn for Dagr."

"That hurt, Loki, I won't lie." There was a brief pause before he said, "So, Freya...how about a date?"

Roy was in the master bath, just about to tell his partner to stop hitting on everyone, when a hand grabbed his arm. He spun, reaching for his weapon, and stopped when Hawkeye placed a hand on his chest to halt his movement and a finger to her lips to let him know silence was essential. They remained still for a few moments and then he heard the voices downstairs. He assumed the guards must have realized the alarm system was out and a few came in to check it.

She gestured for him to follow, led him back through the master bedroom, into the hallway, and toward the staircase he had taken a short time before. He heard the guards approaching the base of the stairs and pulled her into a nearby bedroom. Stepping around a large bookcase immediately to the left of the door, they stood facing each other in the corner of the room, sandwiched between the bookcase and a wall. The guards were moving slowly, shooting the breeze more than working, and Hawkeye shifted against him to check her watch, raising her eyebrows as a way of informing them they needed to leave soon.

They listened to the guards' progress, who had paused at the top of the stairs, and their own team's conversation that continued over comms. "Yoo hoo...Loki? Tyr?" Breda was saying. "Where are you crazy kids?"

" _Calm down_ ," Catalina replied. "They are probably by a guard or something and can't talk right now. Or maybe they're making out…all this talk of dates probably put ideas in their heads." Roy rolled his eyes as Hawkeye shook her head with a grin.

"Well, if that's the case, I guess she likes them goofy-looking and arrogant with crazy hair," Havoc commented, clearly pleased that the man in question could not respond at the moment. Hawkeye glanced up at him, and then her mouth dropped open upon Catalina's next addition:

"And Tyr must like his ladies to be bossy clean-freaks with weapon obsessions...I can't diss her hair, though, it's excellent." It was after the firearms comment that he thought about her incredible accuracy during the car chase the prior day, and it occurred to him that she might be skilled enough for the shot that saved him in Paris.

He shook that off for the time being and they both stilled when the guards began moving again, finally passing the door to their hiding place. They waited an additional few seconds to be safe before quickly and soundlessly taking the stairs to the first floor. They exited through the office and he removed the magnet he'd placed over the sensor as they did so. Racing toward the gateway, he took that magnet as well and she closed the gate securely behind them. Once out on the sidewalk they slowed to a more comfortable pace, as if they were simply a couple bar-goers on the way home.

The heat was once more overwhelming, but now that they were out in the open there was some relief from a more substantial breeze. The road they followed was quiet and lined with trees interspersed with those antique-style street lamps neighborhoods often had in an attempt to achieve an old-world aesthetic. They strolled in silence for a while, enjoying the peaceful early morning, and his thoughts turned to his Aunt Chris and the Hughes family. He hoped they were alright, that they had not fallen under any scrutiny because of his escape and the suspicions surrounding him. He also felt terrible for disappearing like he did, hated leaving without warning, but he also knew better than to contact them. It would simply cause more trouble for anyone involved, and he was no novice.

Hawkeye's voice brought him back to the present, and she glanced at him with a small smirk. "So how does it feel, Tyr, having been on the other side?"

He chuckled. "I guess it wasn't too bad." He actually had to admit that he was feeling a bit invigorated, what with the break-in, the close call with the guards, and getting out clean. The adrenaline had been flowing and there was a bit of pride in being able to keep calm and focus just like on any other mission. After another thought he added, "Oh, and fair warning Dagr, I'm going to hurt you."

Havoc replied, but not as expected. "The target's plane just landed."

"We may have a problem," Grumman abruptly spoke up. "We're seeing law enforcement vehicles...some local, some state, and a few may be federal."

"Federal? Are you sure?" Roy's eyes narrowed and he shared a look with Hawkeye as they picked up their pace for the two blocks remaining to the safe-house.

"Sig..." the blonde began.

"Airport security feeds...I'm on it."

"Thanks." She sped up from a run to something closer to a sprint and he matched her pace, wondering what the hell was going on. They burst through the side door of the safe-house a few minutes later, catching their breath, and strode directly to Fuery's station, where video feeds were just popping up on a large screen.

"I've got airport customs officers...they're going out to meet the plane on the tarmac," Havoc informed them. "I see a few local leos, some staties, and...oh holy shit. Tyr, do you…?"

"Hold on." He indicated a specific camera feed and said, "Sig, can you zoom in on that?" Roy's face fell as he recognized one of the agents in the group moving through the hangar. " _Dammit_ Hughes."

"Your Interpol friend?" Hawkeye sounded somewhat incredulous as she stepped closer, and then, "Shit."

"Yes, my stupid friend that's detaining a psychotic arms dealer in an airport." He paced away a short distance, shaking his head, and turned back around. "He's been after Kimblee for a couple years but could never find anything concrete. Naturally, he had to take action _now_." He continued to watch and saw Hughes hand Kimblee what must have been a warrant, at which point agents began off-loading items from the plane. The arms dealer's expression was cold, which was somehow even more unsettling than if he'd started a shouting match. Roy could not determine what was being said, but he could tell his friend had managed a small victory. After a couple minutes, the agents finished unloading and Kimblee said a few words before returning to his plane, which started to taxi away. Part of him, the part thinking about how the asshole killed his parents, seriously felt like throwing something, but he settled for saying, "Fuck...he's gone."

"And BlackBird's on the move," Denny said.

"Mani, relieve Freyr for a while, and keep an eye on BlackBird," Roy replied, trying to keep the anger from his voice. He met Hawkeye's gaze for a second and she gave a tiny nod that she was fine with the switch. He wanted to give Brosh a break since he'd been tailing Raven for several hours, but he did not want to step on toes. They were in a delicate situation with two teams that did not know each other well trying to work together. He and Hawkeye had been doing their best to cooperate, not wanting to cause unnecessary issues by making decisions without the other's input.

"Copy that," Falman replied. "Odin's taking me to Freyr's position."

Roy removed his comm and once more glanced at the video of his friend, chuckling wryly at the horrendous timing of it all. The time they had taken to follow Raven and bug Kimblee's house seemed like a waste, though he knew that was not true. With an exhale he muttered, "Dammit."

Everyone began to disperse, heading off to bedrooms to sleep while Fuery worked on tracking the arms dealer's movements, and he looked to his right when Hawkeye turned to face him. "We'll get him, Mustang," she said with a nod, placing a hand on his arm briefly as she walked behind him.

He watched for a second as she left and nodded to himself: she was right. He could not reasonably expect that apprehending someone like Kimblee would be easy, and he had to be prepared for more obstacles. He appreciated her reassurance, and in that second he fully realized that she was the only other person that knew the entire truth about his parents, the only one that understood the complete significance of Kimblee slipping from their grasp. And for some reason, that did not bother him.

He had spent most of his life not telling anyone about them and, if he did, he gave as few details as possible. For years, only Maes, Gracia, and Aunt Chris knew that his parents were shot and that he found them. Elicia and Havoc only know that he was orphaned young, but they have no idea what happened. As for the rest of his team, he did not think they knew anything.

Their death and his subsequent discovery of it were simply things he did not frequently bring up. It was true that it was still painful to think about, and he figured it always would be to some extent, but that was not the reason for his secrecy. That experience had become an extremely personal and private part of his life, and it was as if he wanted to keep whatever was left of them for himself. However, in all honesty, it was a relief that someone else knew everything without him have to tell the story.

* * *

It was late in the evening on the same day of what they were now calling the 'airport fiasco,' and Riza was using her free time to swim laps in the pool. She sliced through the water, which was refreshing after the hot New Orleans day, and when she reached the end performed a flip turn to change directions. After the team had dispersed early that morning, she had gone directly to her room and collapsed onto her bed. She had a meeting with Barry at 0100 and wanted to be well-rested, but when she woke up it was clear she needed exercise.

She understood Mustang's frustrations at Kimblee slipping away, as she felt the same irritation every time she thought about Raven still wandering freely. Ever since Fuery had pieced together that surveillance video, and she saw her father's killer, his death had been on her mind. She was not proud of the part of herself that wanted to put a bullet in Raven's skull, but it was there nonetheless. And the fact that they had to merely keep following him only angered her further. Hence, the exercise.

Lap after lap she lost herself in the repetition, in the movements. The sensation of cool water rushing past was invigorating, and she intended to push herself until any stress she felt melted away. When she finally slowed and stood next to the edge of the pool, she had to catch her breath and her limbs felt heavy. She wrung out her hair, at which point she glanced at the deck chairs placed near the pool and found the General stretched out on one.

She slowly walked up the steps out of the water, grabbing the towel she had set nearby and drying off. Riza then slipped her shorts on over the lower portion of her two-piece suit and occupied the seat next to his. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long." He shrugged. "I don't mind waiting, anyway."

"Are you here to check on me?" She lay back, one arm behind her head, and tried to find a few bright stars stronger than the city lights.

"Yes. I know what night it is...and we just happen to be in New Orleans."

She exhaled slowly. "I'm fine, thank you." They stared up at the sky for a few minutes, and then she added, "Are you sure you want to get involved in all this, General? You could go back to your island, you know."

"I'm not going anywhere, Little Queen."

She shook her head, a grin working its way onto her face. "That nickname."

"It's a classic, and I'll never stop using it."

"That's good to know." She sat up and gave him a smile as she rose to leave, taking a few steps toward the house.

His voice stopped her. "They would both be proud of you. You know that, right?"

After a moment of digesting that, she said, "Thank you." Riza continued up to her room to get ready, quickly rinsing off in the shower to avoid that lovely chlorine smell. Once dressed, she slipped money in her pocket and a small pistol into the holster at her back, running a hand through her still damp hair and contemplating her reflection in the mirror. She felt much less tense after her swim, and she looked forward to a night out with Becca, even if they were just meeting with Barry.

She left the room, popped her head into Fuery's to let him know they were leaving, and met her friend in the entryway. Like her, the brunette had opted for dark clothing, and she wondered if their line of work gave them a perpetual compulsion to blend in. Or if maybe they were just dark and disturbed people. With a shared grin they exited, following the sidewalk toward the restaurants and bars of the French Quarter.

They were quiet for a little while, both likely experiencing mixed emotions being back in their hometown. While the term 'hometown' was technically accurate, after her mother died New Orleans had no longer felt like home to either of them. They had moved around frequently after that, and now the safe-house in Virginia felt more like home than any place had for some time.

Becca sighed, glancing around at the historic properties they were passing. "It feels like forever since we've been here, but it's only been a few years."

"That visit was even shorter than this one...We went right back to Portugal." She paused. "He was supposed to meet us there that weekend since I'd been discharged."

" _That's_ where we should go when all this is over. Get another place by the ocean. Grilled fish, fresh bread, and wine for days." The brunette waved her hand in front of her, as if all that was right before them. "And this is random, but I think Ross has a thing for Mr. Sexy Voice."

"I was actually thinking that, too." Riza lowered her voice. "Two behind us...keeping their distance."

She nodded. "I saw them. Who do you think it is?"

"I have a hunch, but I'm not sure yet. Think it's time for the tequila test?"

"Oh, I am _always_ down the for the tequila test."

She chuckled. "Don't I know it."

Several minutes later they reached Bourbon Street, not surprisingly still packed at that late hour, and walked toward Club Galatoire. They were familiar with the bar and preferred it due to its layout, available exits, and proximity to their destination. They approached the bouncer and were admitted immediately, heading straight for the bar where Becca held up a hand to get the bartender's attention. He responded fairly quickly, the brunette was hard to ignore, and she smiled. "Two shots of tequila, please."

He grinned confidently. "Sure."

They received their shots, clinked glasses, and threw them back, each taking the opportunity to check the mirror behind the bar for their tail. Glancing at each other, they made their way through the crowd to the dance floor, and she leaned close to her friend. "They got in quickly."

"I _knew_ it was them...idiots," Becca replied as they stopped near the center of the floor and started to join in the dancing. "The usual plan?"

She nodded, already losing herself slightly in the music. The floor was packed, and the DJ was playing mostly bass-heavy dance numbers. They danced near each other, and guys came and went, because her friend nearly always got hit on when they went out. She was beautiful, confident, and bubbly, so it was not difficult to see why men were interested. While Riza certainly did not lack confidence, she _was_ a touch less quick to a grin and less outwardly friendly, which she figured might be a bit off-putting.

She checked her watch periodically and when around fifteen minutes remained until her meeting with Barry she placed a hand on her friend's arm. Leaning in again she said, "I'll be back by 0130." They shared a look and then simultaneously move toward different exits, navigating through the crowd.

Once she was back outside she took a deep breath and grinned, enjoying the fact that the air now felt a little cooler after the heat of the club. She strode along the alley back toward Bourbon Street, hoping their ruse worked and that they at least managed to separate the followers. Shooting a quick glance back toward the bar she joined the flow of foot traffic, walking in the direction of a cemetery not far from there.

This city was one of the few places on the planet that made her truly nostalgic, seeing as she'd lived there until she was fifteen. The scent of sugary beignets and spicy gumbos filled the air, and the crowd's carefree happiness was infectious; they were out to have fun. Numerous streets over, was the ice cream parlor that her mother frequently took her to, and not far from that her mom's favorite park could be found. It had a bench, under a fruit tree, where they would end up finishing their mostly melted ice cream.

Out of habit she kept an eye on the mass of people as she walked, checking for anyone else following her or anything out of place. When she reached the block that housed the cemetery, she turned down a side street that ran along it and then slipped through a small, ivy covered gate in the iron fence. She strolled through the maze of crypts, glancing at names, architecture, and statuary as she passed.

Finally, she neared the site she was looking for. The tomb was in a more secluded portion of the cemetery and was one of the smaller, less extravagant crypts. A short, stone wall followed the edge of the plot, and a gigantic willow close by overshadowed it. The stone was gray, the architecture unremarkable, and in the center of the front wall there was a petite door. A plaque was affixed to it, and centered at the top was the name Hawkeye, with the given names Elizabeth and Berthold appearing just beneath it. No dates or other information appeared, but in the stone just above the door was a small engraving of an orchid, her mother's favorite flower. Her chest tensed slightly, and she let out a small sigh.

She turned her back to it to wait, not wanting anyone watching to think she had any special interest in that spot other than as a useful meeting place. The silence was short-lived as, a few moments later, she heard soft footfalls approaching from her right. The individual handed her a package and said, "Loki, my darling, I hope I find you well."

"I am. And you?"

"Rather relieved, if you'd like to know. Someone managed to keep things from me, but I believe I've found the problem and corrected it."

"That is wonderful to hear." She turned the packet over in her hands, making sure it's size fit with what she had ordered.

"And by 'corrected,' I mean I killed the problem." His voice was incredibly lighthearted, bordering on exuberant.

"I figured, Bare."

"And I presume you are aware that there is a man watching you."

She nodded, keeping her voice low. "I know. He's been following me tonight."

"Would you like me to take care of him?" His chuckle somehow sounded like an innocent giggle combined with an evil-sounding cackle. "I would so enjoy it."

"No, that's alright. He's not a threat, he just doesn't trust me." She looked over at Barry. "But...thank you for the offer."

"Of course." His voice turned more business-like. "I brought everything you asked for, and I used two of the best forgers. They're not quite as gifted as you in that department, but you shouldn't have a problem."

"Thank you." She slipped an envelope from a concealed pocket in her jacket and held it out to him. "Your payment. I threw in a bit extra...to show my appreciation for your help."

" _Thank_ you...I've been thinking about buying a new knife-set."

Her lips curved. "You have twenty."

"We all have our little hobbies, my darling." He began to walk away. "I'll let you know if I hear anything about what our friend plans to do with his new toy."

"Thank you again."

"Aurevoir."

He left via a small alley between two crypts and she opened one end of the package, visually verifying everything was there to be certain. She stepped away, casting one more glance at her parents' tomb, and then reached for her pistol when she heard evidence of a scuffle behind her. She turned around and rolled her eyes, holstering her weapon and watching Barry where he stood in the middle of the walkway holding a knife at Mustang's throat. To his credit, the agent seemed quite calm despite the circumstances, only watching her silently, warily. After considering them a moment, she exhaled with a hint of irritation. "Barry, would you let him go?"

He gave a little shrug, pricking Mustang's neck in the process, and she could not be sure if it was inadvertent or intentional. "I just wanted to reiterate my offer...in case you'd changed your mind."

Her eyes widened when, upon closer inspection, she realized he was holding a cleaver. " _Where_ do you even keep that?" She held up her hand. "No, forget I asked...Please let him go."

"Are you sure? I could..."

" _Barry_."

"Alright, alright." Before removing the knife, he grabbed Mustang's hair. "But if I catch you stalking her again, I will chop you up into pieces so tiny no one will ever find them." Barry took the knife from his throat and pushed him away, once more melting into the shadows.

Mustang rubbed at his throat, fingers coming away red, and watched where the Chopper disappeared. "In my defense, I think _stalk_ was used a bit loosely."

She eyed him, trying to control her anger and attempting to understand his perspective since she was not quick to trust either. "Why have you been following me?" As she spoke she tried to walk past him, to lead him away from the crypt and ultimately out of the cemetery. By the time she and Becca knew they were being followed, it had been too late to change meeting places with Barry, and they needed that package immediately.

"I wanted to know what you were up to and..." He trailed off, already looking at the tomb and taking a few steps toward it, eyes narrowed. "Hawkeye... _Berthold._ " She could practically see the lines he was mentally drawing between facts. Resigned, she faced the small building again and he looked at her. "It's _him_ , isn't it?"

She watched him, unwilling to give him anything more than what he figured out himself.

His voice was low, angry. "Do _not_ play dumb. Berthold is not exactly a common name. It can't be a coincidence that his nickname was 'The Hawk,' that his first name is on that tomb..." He pointed to it. "...and that your last name is Hawkeye." He paused, eyebrows rising and eyes widening as he came to another realization. "And that tonight is the anniversary of his death."

"Congratulations, Mustang. He always said you could put things together quickly." She tossed him the package and met his eye. "This is _none_ of your business."

She made to leave, but he grabbed her arm before she could fully turn away and she resisted the reflex to bend his fingers backward. "Like hell it isn't. He was my partner...he tried to _kill_ me." He shook his head, chuckling wryly. "And now I've fallen for it all over again. His daughter...pretending to work for the good guys."

Riza met his gaze, lightly touching the point on his abdomen where her father had shot him. "He saved your life that night." They observed each other for a few seconds, and she could still the see ire in his eyes. "And deep down...you _know_ that's true. Come on, Mustang. You've seen the video, you know who killed him, and I would bet that even without all that, part of you always felt something was off about that night." With that, she stepped around him and walked away.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

Clic: Thank you! I'm glad you're still liking it! Que tengas un buen día también y gracias por tus comentarios :)

HermitCrab: Thank you! It's nice to hear you're enjoying the story. Haha I thought Mr. Sexy Voice was fitting :)

Guest (Jun 14): Thank you for pointing that out, and sorry for the confusion :)


	9. The City That Care Forgot (Part 2)

**Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

 **AN** : Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a great day. Responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this post. As promised, here is Chapter 9. I hope you like it!

* * *

 **The City That Care Forgot** (Part 2)

Roy continued to stand in front of the crypt, lost in thought in the middle of a necropolis, for several minutes. The discovery of Hawkeye's relation to Berthold Gavilán ran through his mind and he could not avoid feeling at least moderately irate. When he first put it together, his frustrations at having been deceived were combined with all the anger associated with the night his friend shot him. He had felt spectacularly betrayed, and to learn that his team's fate relied in large part on that man's daughter, a woman who remained a mystery herself, was incredibly irritating.

He took a deep breath, letting his anger fall away since it was unhelpful and forcing himself to consider her perspective. For one thing, she was CIA and secrecy was vital for their survival. For another, she might have assumed that all hope of mutual trust would fly out the window if he found out who her father was. Finally, he was forced to admit that he had no claim to such honesty and, in her position, would have likely kept that information to himself as well.

With a shake of the head he took a seat on the short wall that surrounded the tomb. It was impossible to deny that she was right: he _had_ wondered if his partner's bullet had ultimately saved his life, had known something was off about the entire situation. In Raven's report, he'd said that Gavilán was dead when he found them, but Roy had still been partially conscious. He remembered hearing the shot, and then Raven was there only seconds later checking to see if he was alive. Upon waking up in the hospital and hearing what happened, he figured he'd imagined it in his delirium caused by severe blood loss. Now that he'd seen the security tape from that night, he knew he was correct the first time.

On an impulse, he glanced back at the small plaque on the door to once more read the other name there: Elizabeth. In all his time working with Berthold the man had never mentioned a wife or daughter, and he wondered if the difference in last name could indicate they never married, though it did not rule it out. He found it difficult to believe that his former partner could have had a family he never knew about but, then again, he did have a second life kept secret from everyone he worked with.

Roy exhaled, attention falling on the package that Hawkeye had placed in his hands before she left. His expression turned curious as he opened it and he sighed again, chuckling wryly, upon seeing what was inside: passports and identity packages for himself and each member of his team. She had made sure they could travel safely and under the radar.

Stuffing the items back in the envelope he shook his head and raked a frustrated hand through his hair. Deep down, he knew there was no reason for her to tell him about the meeting, and that his anger was the result of his own trust issues. His presence this evening was not necessary, and evidently her contact was more on the paranoid side of suspicious. While he would have appreciated her honesty regarding the meeting, he could understand why she did not share the details and, as before, in the same situation he very well might have done the same thing. However, the fact remained that they needed to establish some baseline of trust or their joint venture would never work.

At the soft crunch of footsteps moving along a nearby walkway Roy cocked his head slightly, attempting to gauge the distance and direction. He thought he heard a voice as well but the conversation sounded one sided, as if the individual were on the phone. Quietly as he could, he moved around the Hawkeye mausoleum and shielded himself behind the one next to it. Peeking around the corner, he waited to spot the visitor and follow if necessary.

As the voice came closer he could tell it belonged to a man, but it was low and he could not understand what was being said. For a second, he thought he recognized the voice but tossed that idea aside. The odds were slim that the new arrival would be someone he knew.

The sound of shoes on stone came closer and he moved fully behind the other tomb as the man passed his position. As fate would have it, the guest stopped mere feet from the spot he had just vacated, and then spoke. "Hello, old friend."

"What the fuck?" Roy mouthed to himself, having been proven wrong: it was Raven. He had to wonder how on earth the man knew where Berthold Gavilán was buried.

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood." His old boss was speaking so quietly he had to strain to hear, and if he had been any further away, he would not have heard a word. "I'm not sure who Elizabeth is..." The older man chuckled. "I bet there's not even a body in there. You always did have a penchant for subterfuge." There was another pause, accompanied by the shuffling of feet, and the voice got even softer. "I'd say I'm sorry...but I _did_ warn you not to get in my way." Raven took a breath. "The kid figured you out...and the truth about your identity really helped me out, so thanks. But, for the record, you had me fo..."

Suddenly, a gun shot rang out not far away and Roy tensed, eyes darting around in the darkness, as Raven stopped mid-sentence. Silence reigned alongside the reverberation of the gunshot, and Roy shoved the envelope in his jacket, drawing the pistol at his back. He'd only just gotten the weapon in his hand, and Raven had started to move quickly away, when there was a second gunshot followed by the sound of a body dropping to the ground. He glanced in both directions down the walkway in which he stood, wondering where Hawkeye was and if she had been the unlucky recipient of a bullet. He recanted that last part after a moment since, from what he'd seen of her so far, it was more likely she pulled the trigger.

He shifted the weapon in his hand and then popped a round into the chamber, all the while listening for any movement nearby. He looked around the corner of the small structure he leaned against and saw that Raven had collapsed little more than a few steps from his original position. Blood trickled through the older man's hair, originating from a bullet-sized hold in the side of his head.

Firearm held out before him, Roy slowly paced toward the body, eyes vigilant and ears alert. The light crunch of his own feet on the ground sounded uncommonly loud, and he was suddenly aware of every creak made by the nearby tree. When he reached Raven he crouched next to the still form, simultaneously checking for a pulse and scanning the rows of eerie, shadowed sepulchers.

He stiffened for an instant when he heard another set of footfalls, almost too quiet to be heard, moving softly in his directly. Silently, he rose and slid back into the space between crypts, standing with his back flush with the wall and taking inaudible breaths. The steps were slow and steady, meaning the individual was being cautious, maintaining an awareness of their surroundings.

Roy listened as the footsteps neared, tracking their progress, the ever-so slight rustle of leaves in the background. Finally, they were on the other side of the Hawkeye tomb, approaching the place where Raven lay dead. Just when he reasoned the person would have reached the corner the steps paused, and then were heard once again when they moved into the walkway.

He waited an additional second and then spun around the corner into the path, firearm raised. He found himself muzzle to muzzle with Hawkeye and noticed that she made no sign of surprise when he appeared. They watched each other for a moment, each taking slow breaths, and then lowered their weapons. It was then he realized that her left hand was covered in blood. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, gaze lowering to Raven as she held up the hand in question. "Denny got the first bullet...I checked for a pulse."

"And?"

Hawkeye met his eye briefly once more, shook her head, and he saw sadness there. She pointed to the man on the ground before her and then muttered, mostly to herself, as she glanced at the plaque with her father's name. " _How_ did he know?"

He moved around to stand next to her and shrugged. "I have no idea."

Her eyes rose, cautiously scanning the area. "Did you get a look at the shooter?"

Roy shook his head. "No, you?"

When she did not respond he looked up, thinking they should search Raven, and saw her eyes narrow at something in the darkness. She moved to pushed him out of the walkway, but instead he took her extended arm and pulled her toward him, turning his back to the shooter just as the first shot rang out. A second later her left hand clutched at his shirt, her right arm slipped around his waist, and she rose on her toes, returning fire even as he spun them around the edge of the sepulcher. There was a grunt of pain from the direction of the shooter, and she quietly said, "I hit his shoulder." Her cheek was against his, and when he realized her hair was scented with lavender something clicked in his mind. _Paris_.

He pushed that thought away as they stopped moving, her back to the small building, and switched his pistol to his left hand. He looked around the corner and saw the individual racing down the walkway, left arm hanging limply. Roy lifted his weapon, aimed, and fired once at the fugitive's back. A body fell and he exhaled a couple times as he lowered his gun, catching her eye and noticing he still had her pinned. For a second he could only stare. The moonlight gave everything a silver hue, softening the edges of this woman that at first glance seemed unbreakable. There was a calm strength there, and she was also exceedingly lovely.

Her gaze left his, shattering the metaphorical spell, and then returned. "Nice shot."

Roy smirked. "It's my dark eyes...they help me see at night."

She eyed him and then laughed, her head falling back against the stone as he joined in. "So _that's_ what it is."

He knew his comment was not exceptionally comical, but they were coming down from a tense moment, high on extreme relief. He liked her laughter, but his chuckles slowly stopped and he watched her. When he spoke his voice was low. "You saved my life in Paris."

She stopped laughing and her smile faded, her slightly wide eyes stayed on his. Hawkeye nodded, though she had already given him all the confirmation he needed.

He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Would you have believed me if I did?" Her head tilted to listen when sirens could be heard at a distance. "We need to move."

He nodded and they re-entered the walkway, crouching to search Raven and pulling out his wallet along with anything else in his pockets that might be useful: receipts, hotel room key, phone, firearm. Once they'd secreted the items away in their own pockets they stood to move toward the other body. Weapons at the ready, they cleared any alley that they passed and then trained their guns on the prone form.

He glanced at her again and then knelt, reaching his hand out toward the pulse point on the stranger's neck. "He's gone."

At those words Hawkeye holstered her weapon and pulled out her phone, taking a photo of the individual's face while Roy searched him. The sirens were getting closer so they finished as quickly as possible, paused for a final scan of the scene, and then hurried in the direction she indicated. He followed her lead along various pathways, each lined by seemingly unending rows of mausoleums. It truly was an unsettling place to be in the middle of the night.

They moved silently and did not speak as they wound their way through the maze. Finally, they reached the edge of the cemetery and slipped through a small gate onto the sidewalk beyond. The police sirens grew even louder, passing on a cross street a few blocks behind them, and he exhaled in relief.

They continued to walk in silence for a couple blocks and he glanced at her. "So...you were a sniper."

She nodded. "Yes."

He glanced at her. "Branch?"

Hawkeye took a hesitant breath. "I was an Army Ranger Sniper."

"I was Army...Special Forces. So was Hughes." He paused. "But you probably already knew that."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I wasn't surprised when I found out. You fight well."

He took a breath. "Thank you, for Paris, and for saving my team back in D.C." He held up the package she'd given him. "And for making sure we could travel."

She nodded. "You're welcome."

"And I believe I owe you an apology...for tonight."

Hawkeye looked at him momentarily and shook her head. "You were being cautious. I can respect that."

"I realize that I have no right to all the details of your life."

"That's true." She paused and then spoke, her voice softer, nostalgic. "He talked about you sometimes, you know. He was proud of you..." A light laugh escaped her. "... _especially_ when he realized you were on to him."

He chuckled. "That sounds like him." He was pensive for a moment, wondering about the names he'd seen on the tomb. "Is Elizabeth a real person?"

She met his eye for a second and then looked ahead. "She was, yes." Her tone once more held a mostly concealed note of sadness.

He changed the subject. "Look, I can understand why you didn't tell me about the meeting, or about Berthold. That said, you also didn't give me the _chance_ to understand." He paused, glancing around as they walked. "We need to find a way to trust each other if this is going to work. If it were just me, not my team, I would go with it and see what happened. As it is, I need you to give me _something_...as a gesture of good faith."

Hawkeye was silent for a few steps. "Okay...you get three questions."

"That you will answer completely honestly?"

"Yes. And then, of course, I get three questions. This trust thing goes both ways, Mustang."

He grinned. "Fair enough." After a few moments' thought he asked, "How is it that Walter Grumman is on your team."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he liked to thing her small smile meant she was a bit impressed. "Well, you would never be able to prove this, but he's my grandfather."

Roy's jaw fell slack and he looked over at her, wide-eyed. "Seriously? Grumman _and_ Zeus? You're basically underworld royalty."

Hawkeye shrugged a shoulder. "I guess so...sort of."

He chuckled at how that did not seem to affect her in the slightest. "Ahh...How do you know Olivier Armstrong so well?"

"We met in college...actually shared an apartment for a while."

"What was your major?"

An amused smile blossomed on her lips. "Is that really pertinent? Are you sure you want to use your final question for that?"

"Call me curious." He did not want to ask for too much sensitive information at once, and decided on more innocuous topics for his remaining questions. If they could establish a better rapport amongst themselves, it would help the members of their combined team do the same.

"I majored in comparative literature and French...My turn...Tell me, Mustang, how does one go from chemistry major to FBI agent?"

He smirked. "The Bureau appreciates a bachelor's degree, and chemistry was the only thing that interested me enough."

"You graduated with honors, and a minor in chemical physics. That's more than just an interest."

"Jesus. I think if anyone's been doing some stalking it's you."

She gave a quiet laugh. "Sig is just very thorough. Speaking of, there's a gap in your file, between your high school graduation and when you started basic training. There's actually no record of your activity during that time. What happened?"

"I was traveling...England, France, Portugal, Spain, Italy, and the Czech Republic."

"So you were traveling under an assumed name." Hawkeye paused. "I was wondering if your aunt used to be Madame Christmas, the well-known underworld presence."

Roy's eyes widened, eyebrows rising. "Yes. She went legit and opened a bar when she adopted me."

"That's several points in your favor, Agent Mustang."

"Her disappearing act is legendary. How did you know?"

Her smirk reappeared. "I'm sorry, you're all out of questions tonight."

"Fine," he chuckled, looking around as they approached one of the busier streets. "Where are we going?"

She held up the key-card they'd found on Raven. "I thought we should check out his hotel room before the cops get there."

"Good idea. But I don't think we'll have much time."

"Probably not." As they walked toward the hotel she pulled out her phone, sent a message, and caught him looking her way. "I told Becca I'd be back by 1:30...she's a worrier." She replaced the phone in her pocket and slipped her arm through his just before they entered the hotel lobby. She must have taken note of his surprise because she quietly said, "People pay less attention to couples in close contact."

In response, he pulled her closer and with his other hand lightly caressed her cheek, pushing hair behind her ear. He kept his voice low and smirked. "I figured I should really sell it...you know, since you despise me."

She met his eyes and smiled fully, as a woman might gaze at her boyfriend, toying with the cuff of his jacket. Her fingers grazed his inner wrist. "I don't _despise_ you. I merely dislike you a little."

"Well that's good news," he laughed. They got in the elevator and she hit the button for the sixth floor, separating herself from him after the doors closed. "I noticed quite a few cameras out there."

Her lips curved upward as she reached into a pocket and held something up for him to see. "A strange signal has temporarily interfered with their video feeds."

He chuckled. "Always something up your sleeve."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're learning."

The elevator came to a stop and they stepped out into the hallway, striding toward room 612, which a useful application created by Fuery had indicated was the room tied to the card. Taking the key-card from her pocket, she slipped it into the lock and waited for it to click open. They shared a look and he nodded, glancing up and down the hall before drawing his weapon.

Hawkeye then opened the door and drew her own pistol as they stepped inside, grabbing the handle to keep the door from slamming shut. She paced toward the bedroom while he took a quick look in the bathroom.

"Clear."

"Clear." He moved in the direction of her voice as she continued. "It's been tossed."

Sure enough, drawers had been emptied on the floor, clothes were strewn about the room, and the bed was torn apart. A few pieces of furniture had been broken down, and even the rear panel of the television had been removed. The vents around the room on the upper wall gaped, the grates tossed haphazardly on the tattered mattress. The bases of both lamps sat open, and the only lit fixture lay on its side, the shade creased in several places.

Roy found himself slipping once again into his investigative mode. He examined everything, touched and untouched, trying to determine where his old boss might hide something. He glanced to the desk when Hawkeye knelt to analyze the underside, and then he began shifting furniture. He searched for anything that appeared to have been tampered with or loosened.

He looked over again when she stood with an exhale, thought for a moment, and walked to the bathroom. As she passed him, the trim near the base of the dresser caught his eye and he set down the bedside table he had been looking at. He took a few steps to the wall and crouched next to it, taking out his butterfly knife and flipping it open. Carefully, he placed the blade between the wall and the trim, grinning when he pried it open and found another phone hidden in a small recess. He replaced the piece of wood and stood, turning the device over in his hands and activating the screen. "Hey, Hawkeye. I found something."

She came back into the bedroom. "There's nothing in the bathroom." Her brow furrowed and she took the phone.

They both eyed the window at the sound of squealing tires followed by several car doors being shut. "I think we're out of time." He wondered how the authorities had identified Raven and found out where he was staying so quickly, and thought they must have contacted someone from the FBI.

She nodded, sliding the device into a pocket and leading the way to the door. She checked through the peephole and then gave him a quick nod that the coast was clear before opening it. They stepped into the hall and strode toward the stairwell located at the end furthest from the elevators the authorities would likely use. They quickened their pace as the elevator neared that floor, and entered the stairwell just as the doors started to open.

Racing down the stairs, they reached the ground floor and exited on the side of the building. Roy cautiously leaned his head around the corner to get a more accurate idea of the police presence and nodded to let her know there were more in front. She began to walk down the alley, away from the main road, and he took several quick steps to catch up with her.

"This is new for me...running from the cops." He chuckled and slid his hands in his pockets.

"Never did anything crazy when you were young?"

"Oh, I did. Mostly with Maes...we just never got caught." He paused, and decided to try to keep the conversation going since he actually had her talking. "You?"

"Never got caught." She shrugged and he was fairly sure he saw a smirk.

They continued to the safe-house in a more companionable and comfortable silence than before. Roy was aware there was still a great deal he did not know about her, but after the night and the conversations they'd had he felt much more able to trust her. While the revelation of her paternity had initially made him angry, it lead to a certainty that he had been correct to question the events of the night Berthold died. And Raven's mini confession did not hurt.

He would still need to be cautious, but thus far he had only seen evidence that her loyalties lay with Olivier Armstrong and her team. He had to respect that drive to protect one's team since he felt the same way about his own group. He was inclined to trust her, at least to a point; the only people he trusted completely were Hughes and Aunt Chris.

After a twenty minute walk they arrived at their rented house and she stepped up to unlock the door. Hawkeye entered first and he closed it behind them before they each slipped off their jackets. They had only just tossed them over the back of the couch when Catalina appeared and enveloped the blonde in a crushing hug.

She then pulled back and gripped her friend's upper arms. "Riza Julia Hawkeye...if you ever do that again I will hurt you." The dropping of her middle name did not escape his notice.

"What?" She held her hands up in a questioning gesture. "I sent you a message." She then pointed at the brunette. "And you promised to stop middle-naming me."

"I'm sure I did no such thing."

Fuery materialized from the kitchen. "Hey, Riz, you're back."

She smiled in greeting. "I am, and I have something for you." She reached into her jacket and tossed him the phone.

" _What_ is going on?" Havoc came down the stairs, clearly having been napping. He grinned widely. "Party time?" He spotted Catalina and leaned against the wall near her, crossing his arms. "So, Bec, you look fantastic. How about that date we talked about? I didn't forget."

She shared a momentary look with her friend and then considered him for a few seconds. Suddenly, she took a step forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him deeply.

Roy's eyes widened and he chuckled at Havoc's acute surprise, while next to him Hawkeye had a small smile of amusement on her face. He caught her eye and she shrugged.

Just as suddenly as she kissed him, Rebecca pulled away and contemplated him again. "Hmm...it was okay." She gave a little wave. "We'll see."

Jean looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. "Okay?….Okay?….Oh, _hell_ no. I am not just _okay_." She was turning away but he grabbed her hand, spun her back toward him and kissed her.

Roy met Hawkeye's gaze again and it was his turn to shrug. She shook her head, the grin still on her lips, and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a couple more items from her jacket. He decided to follow and sat on one of the stools before saying, "So about that...back there. In my experience, the kiss usually happens during or after a date."

"Yeah, Becca has a checklist...it seems kind of like dating backwards, but it works for her."

"What is this checklist?"

She gave a little chuckle. "Step one: Find a cute guy...Step two: Find out if he lives with his mom or grandmother, or is a serial killer...If not, proceed to Step three: Verify that he has a job...If yes, proceed to Step four: Confirm cute guy is a good kisser. If he passes that test, he gets a date. And at some point during those steps, she usually runs a background check." He listened, brow curious, and watched as she got out a bottle of tequila along with several shot glasses. Next to them, she set the gun and wallet she'd removed from her jacket, and he assumed they must have belonged to Denny. Nothing further had been mentioned about his death, and he figured some kind of memorial might soon be taking place.

"That could work," Roy replied. "Seems like it takes all the fun out of it, though."

"Oh, I see. You like the mystery." Hawkeye opened the bottle and began pouring shots.

He nodded. "That's part of it, but it's also learning more about the person as you go. I'm sure she wants to avoid wasting her time on relationships that go nowhere, and I can get that." He paused and noticed she was watching him curiously, her head tilted slightly, as if he was not what she'd expected. "I guess I believe people are more than the sum of a few details. They can surprise you."

The corners of her lips curved upward, and then she continued pouring. "I tend to agree with you."

Fuery walked past and they both glanced up at the newcomer. The younger man took one look at the spread of tequila and said, "I'll get the General."

"See if the others would like to join, too," Hawkeye responded.

He nodded, left the kitchen, and Rebecca joined them a few moments later, toying with her hair, a pleased smile on her features. "We're having a drink outside."

Hawkeye lifted the bottle of liquor. "But first..."

"Oh, definitely. Time for the tequila toast." Grabbing a bag of chips, she thoughtfully added, "We might have too many activities involving tequila...there's this one, the tequila test, the tequila sunrise..." She looked at Roy and explained. "That's where we actually drink a tequila sunrise while watching the sunrise...preferably in Mexico, but we're open to other locations. And we have the tequila waltz, Fortaleza tequila...umm, three tequila Prague...and..."

"Well you're the one that keeps naming everything," the blonde interrupted with a smirk. "So this might say more about you than anyone else."

"Hey there, Hawkeye." Havoc suddenly strolled into the kitchen, an even larger and more ridiculous grin than usual on his face, hands held open in a welcoming gesture. "Do _you_ want a test drive? I wouldn't want you to feel left out."

"I'll pass."

"Take your time...think about it. You don't have to decide right now. Just know that I'm open for business." Havoc shot a glare in Roy's direction when he laughed, shaking his head.

She simply looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised, leaning on the counter.

Breda appeared next to his friend and elbowed him with a chuckle. "Run for your life, dude."

A second later Ross, Fuery, Falman, and Grumman entered the room and Rebecca passed a filled shot glass to each person. "To Denny." Catalina's smile had turned sad. "You were one crazy, peanut butter-obsessed little man, but we loved you anyway." She glanced around the room. "Thoughts?"

"He was a good friend," Fuery chimed in, his normally cheerful face downcast.

Grumman spoke next. "That kid had an excellent left hook...just fantastic."

Roy saw nods go around that team, and figured he should say something on behalf of his, but Havoc beat him to it. "We didn't know him very long, but he was a pretty awesome guy. And he made delicious pancakes."

Finally, Hawkeye spoke. "He could boost a car faster than anyone I've ever met." More nods of agreement. "And without him, we would have _all_ died that time in Bangkok." She paused. "To Denny."

"To Denny," everyone chorused, and then knocked back the liquor. As Roy toyed with the glass, absentmindedly sliding it on the counter, he came to the conclusion that Brosh deserved so much more than a shot of tequila. However, for a clandestine team working for the CIA, it was most likely all they could do.

"Thank you, guys," Rebecca said to the room at large before getting drinks for herself and Havoc.

The majority of the group dispersed at that point: Breda, Ross, and Falman returning to their respective rooms, Catalina and Jean going to sit by the pool, and Fuery heading to his computer. Hawkeye collected the glasses and place them into the dishwasher, but before anything else was done or said, Kain abruptly came back.

"Riza." He gave her a meaningful look and handed her the phone.

She sat on a stool near Roy and read whatever was on the small device. She then looked up at Grumman and slid the phone across the counter to him, running a hand through her hair. "He's setting up a Mansouran Exchange."

The older man paused to read and then returned her gaze with a nod. "That's what it looks like."

Hawkeye shook her head. "But it doesn't make sense...not for Kimblee."

Roy caught the phone when Grumman passed it to him, seeing only a symbol, 'Ͽ,' along with a date and time listed in a text message. " _What_ is a Mansouran Exchange?"

She moved her eyes to his. "Sorry...A Mansouran Exchange is a sale someone sets up, usually during another event, to move an illegal item. It's a one-day, silent auction. Invitation only."

He turned the phone, pointing to the symbol. "This is a dotted antisigma...it was once used as an editorial symbol to mark a line or phrase that needed rearranging." He paused. "Am I correct in guessing that the date and time are scrambled?"

The blonde smiled. "Impressive, Mustang. You know your Greek alphabet...and yes, so we'll need to know the city where it's taking place, which is spread by word of mouth. Then, Fuery will match the possible dates and times to any events in that location."

He considered all that information, and noticed that she seemed frustrated by the turn of events; he was not sure why. "I agree that selling the Stone doesn't make sense for Kimblee, but you would get an invitation, right?"

"No, because I never touch weapons...it's not my area. People would be suspicious if I went just as Loki."

"Nor are they mine," Grumman added. " _But_ , if we had..."

Hawkeye met her grandfather's eye and tilted her head toward Roy. "He knows about Dad." She shook her head again, leaning forward onto the counter on her elbows. "But it doesn't matter. I looked everywhere for it."

The older man's eyes narrowed at him, and he remembered just who he was dealing with. " _How_ does he know?"

"He was following me, and then...Long story short he saw the crypt."

Grumman watched him for another second and it was not a glare, but it felt like one. He then turned to his granddaughter. "Lagos?"

"Yes, I checked...and I searched the house in Germany, and his apartment in D.C." She glanced back at Roy again, realizing he might not have been following. "No one actually receives a physical invitation to a Mansouran Exchange. You either have one, or you don't, and you claim it when you arrive." She paused. "Earlier in my Dad's career, a few hi-profile weapons thefts were attributed to him and, since some people believe he's still alive, he has a standing invitation to these events."

"Berthold is the Elvis of the underworld," Grumman chuckled.

She grinned and continued. "I could attend on his behalf, but I need this medallion he wore. It had a chip in it...his way of verifying the invitation was his." Roy's eyes grew wide at the word 'medallion,' and he could not believe he had not thought of it before. Berthold's last words to him ran through his head: _Make sure she gets this_.

She gave a light laugh. "He always thought it was so funny. His codename was from the Greek pantheon, but the pendant was..."

"Laverna...the Roman goddess of thieves," Roy finished, holding her gaze when her eyes shot upward. "He gave it to me right before he shot me. He wanted me to give it to you...but I didn't know you existed."

Hawkeye smiled more fully again, and it was extremely pretty. "Looks like we're going to a Mansouran Exchange."

* * *

 **AN** : Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a good one! :)

 **Reponses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

Hermit Crab: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it, and I hope this chapter gave some more information. But not _too_ much...not just yet :)

Ehya: Thank you! It's always wonderful to find out someone is enjoying the story :)


	10. The Passenger (Part 1)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello! Reponses to guest reviews from last chapter can be found at the end of this post. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **The Passenger** (Part 1)

Riza stepped out onto the back deck of her Virginia safe-house and smiled, leaning on the railing and watching the sun-dappled ocean. The morning was calm and the hour was early, that time of day when the world still felt quiet. She stood straight and stretched, fighting the soporific effect of rhythmic waves on her tired, overworked body. The private plane had landed in Virginia a mere forty minutes ago, and she was looking forward to a little relaxation after their fun in New Orleans.

Using software that produced all combinations of the scrambled date and time for the exchange, coupled with logic and patience, Breda had narrowed the possibilities to a few that were most likely. Several days remained until the nearest upcoming date and, having sent feelers out regarding the location, they were forced to play the waiting game.

Fuery had also used his free time to work some technological magic, and he was well on the way to compiling any and all information they could find on their target. By the time they had cleaned the Louisiana safe-house and packed their gear, he had discovered the identity of the assassin from the cemetery. She already had a call in to Barry to find out who hired the hitter, though the clear suspect was Kimblee. Raven was no longer of any use to him.

She turned at the sound of the sliding door opening and saw Fuery take a seat at the patio table, followed by Becca dragging a less-than-enthusiastic Ross with her. Riza joined them at the table after a gesture from her friend and with an amused smirk glanced at Maria. "Did she kidnap you?"

Ross nodded pointedly. "Yes, actually. And I was _this_ close to falling asleep."

She was about to respond when her friend slid a glass of wine in front of her and took a seat. "Bec...it's eight o'clock in the morning."

The brunette shrugged, in the middle of pouring her own glass. "So? I'm still on New Orleans time."

"Then it's _seven_ o'clock in the morning for you," Fuery interjected. "Kinda early, isn't it?"

Becca gave a little wave of dismissal. "It's not like I have to be anywhere, and I've been up so long this is basically dinner-time." She gestured around the table. "Anyway, I just thought we could bond."

"Then maybe I should head back into the house with the _guys_ ," Fuery responded.

"Don't be ridiculous, Kain. This isn't just for the girls," the brunette said. "But we can help you. For instance, today's lady-lesson for you is...own a headboard. Men seem much less creepy when they have things like bed-frames and headboards and matching furniture."

"You are nuts." He pointed at her for emphasis.

"Maybe." Riza took a sip, giving a small nod. "But she has a point...it makes you seem more put-together and less like the type that would live in their parents' basement and stalk you."

" _Exactly_." Her friend nudged her. "You just get me."

"While we're giving advice," Havoc added, exiting the kitchen and grabbing a seat next to Becca. "You should also learn how to make an omelet. Chicks dig a guy that can cook." When another sliding door opened he added, "Here comes the ladykiller...I bet he's got a few nuggets of wisdom." At that Riza shot Mustang a curious smirk and, as he took the chair to her left, he shook his head like he had no idea what his partner was talking about.

"Oh, please," Maria rejoined. "You're way more of a player than he's ever been."

Havoc looked equal parts wounded and proud but, before he could retort, Mustang said, "Come on, guys...my love life is boring. What _I_ want to know is how a nineteen-year-old is on a clandestine CIA crew."

Fuery shot her a look but Riza merely raised her eyebrows, her way of informing him the choice to share was his. His face reddened with all the attention on him, and he finally said, "It all started when I _really_ wanted this issue of the X-Men comics and my mom wouldn't buy it for me. One week later it arrived in the mail...I told her I won a contest." He drank from a bottle of water he'd brought out with him and continued. "A few years later, there was this giant misunderstanding and I may or may not have hacked the NSA when I was sixteen. Riz found me, straightened everything out, and worked out a deal for me."

Havoc snorted in amused disbelief. "What kind of misunderstanding leads to you hacking the NSA?"

"And now we're in classified territory," Riza jumped in, silently thanking her grandfather for going to bed or she would have been forced to repeat the phrase 'that's classified' approximately one thousand times.

After a chuckle, Havoc changed the thread of conversation by turning to the brunette on his left. "Bec...How'd you get into all this? Conning little kids out of their lunch money?"

"Mmm..." Becca's eyes lost focus, as one often does when recalling a pleasant memory. "I was eleven and running a version of the fiddle game with Alex DePalma. She was sixteen and we lived in the same foster home. A fake diamond necklace was the fiddle." She clinked glasses with her blonde friend and smiled widely. "Good times."

Before anyone could inquire about her first forays into crime, Riza said, "So, Havoc, why the FBI?"

He stole Becca's glass and took a drink. "For one thing, I look damn sexy in shoulder holsters...and, honestly, I like the challenge. What other job lets you track down criminals and look this good doing it?" He shrugged. "Seriously though...I don't have any kind of deep and noble reason. I was a cop in my hometown for a few years and wanted something more interesting. I genuinely enjoy my job, and helping people is a nice bonus."

"Nice try, Hawkeye," Mustang quietly said, and when she caught his eye his expression was a touch self-satisfied. "But I think we'd like to hear about you."

At that moment Fuery's phone buzzed and he glanced at the alert, looking up at her to say, "It's Breda...our searches found something."

She smirked as she stood. "Saved by the data crawler." Riza entered the living room, closely followed by most of the group from the deck. She gave her grandfather a quizzical look when she spotted him at the computer set-up and said, "Hey, General. I thought you were sleeping."

He smiled that cheerful, unassuming smile of his and said, "I was just brainstorming with Breda, contacting a few people about Kimblee's operation...the usual."

"Right," Breda began. "So, using intel from your underworld contacts Fuery and I started tracing Dirtbag's movements. We coupled that with facial recognition searches of every possible database, both going forward and in archived data. This guy is crazy good at going unnoticed." He gestured to Kain and himself. "But, because we're so awesome...we got a hit. He's in Rome. And when I focused on that location, a pattern emerged." He paused to bring up a photo on one of the screens. "Every time I've verified Kimblee has been in Rome, a shipping container in _this_ guy's name clears customs within days."

"Clears customs where?" Mustang asked, watching the monitors with his arms crossed.

"The locations vary. One time it was England, the next Morocco, then the U.S...it's a long list."

"Dammit this asshole is smart," Becca commented. "He makes sure he's nowhere near the merchandise at any point during trasport."

Riza took a step closer to the screen, examining the photo. "That's Emile Montalt...French mother, Italian father, wanted in a few countries for smuggling."

"Nicola Boveri's kid?" Her grandfather wondered out loud. "Apparently Emile joined the family business."

Mustang shook his head. "That is excellent work, but how the hell are we gonna talk to this guy? We may have to split up. Half of us go to Rome to see what Montalt knows, the rest stay here on standby for when we find the location."

"Lucky for us that's not necessary. A friend of mine is in the area, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind stopping in Paris for a chat." Riza pulled out her phone as she spoke to send a message to Barry, who had left the states immediately following the meeting in the cemetery. If he was not already in Europe, he soon would be. Mustang found her gaze and, in reply to his furrowed brow, she touched the area on her neck that corresponded to the cut from Barry's cleaver on his. He nodded that he comprehended which 'friend' she was talking about and she started toward the stairs, adding, "Great work, guys. We may have to move soon so rest up."

Taking the stairs quickly, she directed her steps toward her room, eyelids already drooping at the welcome thought of catching a few hours' sleep. Still, she could not help but pause when she passed Denny's room, the sinking feeling in her chest once more becoming prevalent as she looked over the band posters on his wall, his packed bookcases. Of their team, he probably could have been considered the most normal, and it always surprised him that he ended up with them.

She had two relatives that were international criminals, Becca had been with several detrimental foster families until ending up with Riza and her mother, and Fuery was an incredibly shy hacker with a formerly abusive and later absentee father. Denny, on the other hand, grew up in Iowa with happily married parents, had two siblings, and went to public school like a regular kid. It just went to show you that there were always exceptions to the norm.

Though they were talented at deception and hiding emotions, she knew that her entire team missed the younger man. His had been a steady presence that at times had the effect of grounding their group of misfits. And somehow, though they would tease him about being the 'normal' one, he managed to be exactly what they needed. She wished that his family could know about all he'd done for his country; they would have been incredibly proud of such a brave son.

She was taken from her thoughts when she heard someone walking along the hall and found Mustang heading slowly in her direction, hands in his pockets. Riza leaned her back against the doorframe and crossed her arms as he walked up, eyes taking in the room. "I'm sorry, Hawkeye."

"Thank you." She let out a small sigh. "It happens all too often in our line of work."

"Will his family ever know?"

She again passed her gaze over Denny's belongings, all that was left of one of the most incredible people she'd had the pleasure of working with. "As far as they knew, he was already dead. Killed in action. But the police won't find anything...he'll be a John Doe."

"That's horribly depressing."

"It really is." She shook her head. "I could never figure out why he chose this life."

He was silent for a moment. "I would guess he wanted to serve his country...in a way only a team like yours could." His deep voice was soft, and she noticed he looked nearly as fatigued as he had at that bar in Paris. She caught a light whiff of the cologne he wore, and suddenly thought about how he had put himself between her and the shooter in the cemetery. He protected her, and she remembered that his cheek was soft against hers.

Riza looked at him, somewhat surprised. "Thank you. That...that was kind of you to say." After a final perusal of the room she exhaled and walked away, thinking it probably should have been her instead of Denny. Once in her own bedroom she locked the door, set an alarm, and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling until she could not keep her eyes open any longer.

* * *

Several hours later, after some much needed rest and a shower, Roy was in the passenger seat of a black sedan with Hawkeye behind the wheel. They had already picked up additional gear at a storage unit located over an hour away from the safehouse and were on their way to his apartment to obtain Gavilán's pendant. He wanted to collect some additional items as well, such as clothes, the photo of his parents, and a few other things he did not necessarily want any curious FBI agents to find.

He could still hardly believe how drastically his circumstances had changed. He was suspended, had evaded federal agents, teamed up with the CIA, broken into a criminal's house, witnessed his ex-boss' murder, and was planning to attend what sounded strangely like an international evildoer's conference. At times it was amazing the difference a few days could make.

He looked over at the woman driving, dressed in her usual black and gray, much like the night he had tailed her. For a second he wondered just how many weapons she had on her at any given time, and figured it was more than he would expect. You can learn things about a person when you're alone in a car for a couple hours, and he had discovered that Hawkeye enjoyed rock music. She had turned up the radio a few times and in each instance it was a classic rock tune to which she seemed to know all the words.

Realizing she had not asked him for directions he said, "I presume you know where my apartment is."

She smirked. "Maybe."

Remembering the conversation earlier that morning, and finding he was still curious, he asked, "So, how about three more questions, Hawkeye?"

"I'm fine with that." Her tone betrayed nothing, but he felt it a reliable assumption that she knew what was coming.

"Me first...How did you get your start? I didn't get to hear your story earlier." He crossed an ankle over a knee, watching as the scenery became more and more familiar the closer they got to his apartment.

She laughed. "Been waiting to ask that?"

"Pretty much. You escaped so nicely earlier, I figured I'd let you feel like you got away with it."

"That was thoughtful." She took a breath, as if deciding what she wanted to say. "As you already know it was kind of a family business. The General taught me how to pick a lock when I was five." She took a drink of coffee. "My turn. I say we alternate this time."

"Fire away."

"What was the alias you traveled under on that trip I asked about the other night?"

"Benjamin Herrera...Benjamin was my Dad's middle name, and Herrera was my Mom's maiden name." He thought for a moment. "Okay, _how_ did you know about my aunt?" She pulled the vehicle into the parking garage attached to his apartment building and they took the stairs to the third floor.

"I was wondering if that would come up." She smiled, giving him a sideways glance. "The General and your aunt dated back in the day. Or fooled around...I'm not sure on the specifics."

"No way. Really?" Once on the third floor, they strolled down the hall to his door at a casual pace, and he reached for the key in his pocket.

"Seriously. That's how I knew."

The key did not fit in the lock, and his eyes moved from one item to the other in nominal confusion. "What the hell?"

Hawkeye took something from her own pocket and slid in front of him, into the space between himself and the door. With a sexy smirk, she pulled him a little closer by his jacket, as if they were saying their goodbyes after a date. She removed two tools from her lockpick set and positioned her hands behind her back while he leaned forward since, assuming the date had gone nicely, this was where he might kiss her. He did not even have time to make a flirtatious comment or do anything else to continue the ploy because the lock clicked open seconds later. With another smirk she grabbed his jacket and yanked him inside, pushing the door shut with her foot, as though the date were ending extremely well.

"Not a bad little ruse, Hawkeye."

She shrugged. "Gotta give them a show."

"Who, exactly?"

"Whoever's watching." She tilted her head, as if to say he should know better. "And there's usually someone watching."

He walked away, striding directly toward his hiding place in the closet, and said over his shoulder, "I kinda wish I could un-know that your grandfather and my aunt were a thing...but I can't."

She chuckled. "Nope."

After removing the false floor board he reached for the lock-box, taking out the medallion along with the rest of his emergency cash, a couple other items, and then returned it to its secret location. He replaced the piece of flooring to cover it, tossed everything he'd taken out on his bed, and was in the process of packing when Hawkeye entered the bedroom from the short hallway.

She looked around his room as would anyone that was in a new location for the first time. "You have a really nice place."

"Thanks." He looked up and saw her drop a small collection of listening devices on the bed, eyes widening. "You found _more_?"

She shrugged a shoulder, a small, pleased smile on her face. "This is my profession."

"Where were they?" He continued to pack, grateful to finally have some of his own clothes and trying to remember everything he had said in the apartment. He had been under the impression that he'd found all the bugs, and hoped no one had heard anything important.

"Well…." She was perusing his bookshelf and, though he usually kept people out of his bedroom, he did not feel she was being overly nosey. "One was built into the microwave, another in a light fixture, and the last was in the thermostat."

"Damn." He chuckled. "And I thought I was good at finding them."

She shrugged again glancing around his room. "I have more practice...that's all." Hawkeye must have picked up on his thought process because she added, "Don't worry, Fuery had already disabled any signals leaving this apartment."

He looked up at her in surprise. "That is a relief...but I also feel a little violated. What else have you guys done?" He handed her the medallion, and continued throwing things in his bag.

She eyed it and then smiled at him once more, not answering his question. "Thank you." She ran her thumb over the raised image of Laverna, the grin not leaving immediately, and then looped it over her neck.

Roy paused in his packing. "I looked for you after he gave that to me. Well, not you specifically...And I couldn't even find any evidence he had a family."

"He had enemies, so in order to protect us there was absolutely no link." She picked up a book and leafed through it briefly. "Eventually, Fuery made sure I didn't exist, and I asked him to do the same for my Mom."

His head tilted thoughtfully as he realized that she quite possibly carried just as much emotional baggage as he did. His question slipped out before he could think about its prudence or intensely personal nature. "How did she die?"

Her gaze rose and she set the book down. There was hesitation, and she opened her mouth to speak but her phone buzzed so she answered it. "Yeah?" He saw her eyes widen. "You're sure?...When?...Thanks." She ended the call, looked at him, and he instantly knew something was wrong. "It's Hughes."

Roy stared at her, brow creased with worry, a pit forming in his gut. "What do you mean?"

He thought he saw something like pain and sympathy in her gaze, and she hesitated again. All of which he took as terrible signs. "Kimblee's after him because of the airport."

A muscle in his chest clenched, and his hand formed a fist around the shirt he still held. " _What_?"

Hawkeye moved toward him, expression conciliatory, and gently took the shirt from him, placing it in the bag. With a hand on his arm she added, "I'm sure everything's fine. We'll go over there right now."

He nodded and then broke eye contact, zipping his bag shut to give his hands something to do. "Right..."

Hawkeye gave him a reassuring nod. "We should have time. I'll get them a protective detail."

"Okay." He cleared his throat, unable to string anymore words together, his concern taking over as he led her out of the apartment. They quickly jumped in the vehicle and left for the Hughes' house, with Roy giving directions when necessary. He tried to call his friend at least three times during the trip and received no response, his anxiety increasing with every phone call. He then decided to try the house-phone, which rang until the answering machine picked up, at which point he ended the call and chucked the phone to the floor.

When they finally arrived, the lights were on but the curtains were drawn, and both Maes' and Gracia's cars were in the driveway. No movement could be discerned from within, nor could he see anyone outside the home. They had just stepped out of the sedan when he heard a gunshot from the house and Roy's entire body tensed. Slamming the door shut he started to run around the front of the vehicle, reaching for his firearm. He vaguely heard Hawkeye's car door close and then she stepped in front of him, stopping him with a hand to his chest. He tried to push her away but she gripped his arms and shoved hip up against the car. "We _have_ to be smart about this, Mustang. I need you calm, in control. If you're not, I'll shoot you myself before I let you go in there."

He shook his head angrily. "You have no idea what's happening inside. You don't know the number of hostiles, weaponry they've got, and have no tactical layout of the premises. You can't handle this alone, and we don't have time to wait." The shot was still echoing in his head, his gut contracting, fear and anger invading every bone and muscle.

"Well, I'd rather not do it alone, but I can and I will...If I have to." She held his gaze for several moments and let him go. "I _get_ it, I do. They're your family. But you're no good to them worried and anxious like this, and you know it." She drew a pistol and put a round in the chamber, her face already calm, a mask.

Roy nodded, taking multiple deep breaths in a row to quiet the concern and slow his madly beating heart. Cocking his own weapon he forced his mind into a more emotionless place. The Hughes family would need him without distraction. "You're right." He gestured toward the house with his firearm. "Okay, first floor. Southeast quadrant is a dining room, behind that the kitchen, basement access off that. Southwest quadrant is the living room, second floor access off that."

"We clear the perimeter first."

"I agree. I'll go around west, you go east...we meet in the back yard."

"Copy that. No comms in the car."

"We'll do without." He took a steadying breath, going to that place he reserved for FBI investigations and near-death situations. He glanced at Hawkeye and, at his nod, they approached the dwelling, moving along either side of it. He paced cautiously, keeping his footfalls noiseless, ignoring the memories of playing soccer with Elicia in that very yard.

The evening was quiet, the only sounds being the chirp of crickets and the sporadic bark of a dog somewhere in the neighborhood. He could hear nothing from within the house, which in his mind did not bode well in the slightest. He could see no sign that anyone had passed along his side of the building, which meant the hired guns must have started their work without any sweep of the area.

Suddenly, he heard another gunshot, but it was not muffled so he reasoned it came from outside the building. Hoping the blonde had not been shot, he picked up his pace, listening and scanning with his gaze, his weapon following his line of sight. Finally rounding the corner, he saw Hawkeye and she was in one piece, no blood visible. She signaled with her hand, indicating that she had neutralized one hostile. In response, he indicated that he would take the front door while she covered the back.

As quickly as he dared, Roy made his way back to the front and ascended the steps. He reached for the door handle with his left hand, his firearm in his right, and pushed it open slowly. He immediately raised his weapon as he entered, anger welling anew when he found Elicia with a knife to her neck and a pistol at her temple.

"Uncle Roy!" His heart shattered when he heard that voice, cracked as it was with sadness and altered by terror. She was crying, tears streaming from green eyes wide with fear and down her reddened cheeks. He could tell she was shaking in fright, and she clutched at the man's arm that held the knife, staring at her uncle as if hoping for some miraculous rescue.

He fought to keep it together, taking even breaths and clearing his mind. She needed her uncle the savvy FBI agent, so he plastered the most unperturbed expression he could manage on his face. "It'll be okay, Lici."

A second later the back door slid open and he met Hawkeye's gaze for an instant as she stepped through, her firearm trained on the hostile. Her face was still calm, but the look in her eye left no doubt as to what she was capable of.

"Who the hell are you?" The stranger jammed the muzzle of the pistol against Elicia's temple, looking frantically at each of the newcomers.

Hazarding a quick glance toward the kitchen floor, Roy saw Gracia lying in a pool of blood in the center. There was a bullet hole in her forehead, a wound in her chest, and her eyes were wide open in a glassy stare. His gut once more clenched and he gazed at the gunman, holding his weapon level. "I want the girl...let her go."

"Not a fucking chance. Drop the weapons." He tightened his hold and Elicia let loose a scream.

"Your partner is dead, you're outnumbered, and you're not going anywhere. Let...the girl...go," Hawkeye said, pacing carefully for a better vantage point.

The man tightened his grip on Elicia further, the tip of the knife even drawing blood. "Who the _fuck_ has the hostage, here?"

Roy glanced at Hawkeye and she nodded her head almost imperceptibly, letting him know that she could have a shot, she was just waiting for the perfect moment. "You do, of course...you're in charge. But, honestly, nobody wants her. She's just a teenager, and you need someone useful if you're gonna get out of this alive."

"What? Like you?" The gunman's gaze still jumped rapidly between the two, trying to find a way to escape.

"Me? No. But him…" She tilted her head toward Roy. "He's valuable. People are looking for him."

"Right, cause I'm just going to take your word for it, lying bitch."

"Take it from him."

He nodded. "I'm FBI, man...Way more important than that kid."

"Show me the badge, asshole." The stranger lowered his weapon minutely, his attention focused on Roy, and Hawkeye fired without hesitation, the bullet flying through the man's temple. Elicia screamed, running to him as the enemy dropped to the floor and he wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. He closed his eyes, held her tight, and murmured in an exhale, "It's okay, kiddo. It'll be okay. I promise," relief flooding his entire body. He saw Hawkeye lower her weapon, breathing out slowly as she still watched the gunman. She then stepped over to him and checked his pulse, nodding to Roy to confirm the man was dead.

She came up to him, still calm, though he could see a hint of tension. "I'll clear the house."

He found her eyes again, trying to convey the depth of his gratitude, and he must have been successful because she nodded, holding her weapon out before her as she moved toward the basement door. He led Elicia to the couch and kept his arm around her, her slight form shuddering as she cried and clung to him like a lifeline. He squeezed her more tightly. "It's alright, kiddo." He shook his head, kissed her hair again, and whispered, "I'm so sorry." He did not care whether or not he was actually to blame, he felt responsible.

Hardly a minute later, he saw Hawkeye return to the small dining room, phone to her ear. "Hey, it's me...Yeah...I need an ambulance and a cleaning crew at 5439 Meadowbrook Lane...Caucasian male, mid-thirties, gunshot wound to the thigh...I placed a tourniquet with his tie...I don't know." She looked at him as she spoke. "Send a protective detail to the hospital and the house...Thanks." She hung up the call, placed the phone in her pocket, and gestured that she was returning to the basement to be with Hughes.

He watched her disappear behind a wall and then readjusted his grip on his niece, leaning his cheek on the top of her head and once more whispering what felt like a useless, "Everything will be okay." He was incredibly relieved that his friend was still alive, though based on the description his situation was dire. A significant portion of him wanted to rush to the basement to be with Hughes, but the other part reminded himself that Elicia needed his support more. While he had seen crises like this, though this one hit incredibly close to home, she never had been in such a situation.

His thoughts strayed to the blonde in the basement and it occurred to him that he could think of no one he would have rather had help him. He was hard-pressed to think of anyone that could have handled that crisis as well as she did, or would have been clear-headed enough to make that shot. He would forever be in her debt, and he was also pretty sure he officially trusted her.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

Guest (Jul 10): Thank you! I'm glad you liked it, and that gave some good background info. And her name...thanks :) I thought that one flowed nicely.

Guest (Jul 11): Those pesky typos! Read as I might they worm their way in and I don't know how they do it! I'm glad you're liking the story :)

Guest (Jul 12): Wow, thank you! That is so nice of you to say! I'm really happy to hear you enjoy the story :)


	11. The Passenger (Part 2)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello! I hope everyone is having a great day. I had every intention of posting this one a week early, since I probably broke some hearts with the last chapter, but that week got away from me somehow. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy it! :) Responses to guest reviews from the previous post can be found at the end of this one.

* * *

 **The Passenger** (Part 2)

After speaking with Olivier, Riza went back down to the basement to be with Agent Hughes because she was a firm believer no one should be left to bleed out on a concrete floor alone. She reached the foot of the stairs and lowered herself to the floor next to him, checking the wound on his leg and tearing off a sleeve of his own shirt to freshen the improvised bandage. She then grabbed his right hand with her left, thinking that if he was at all conscious some physical contact might be assuasive. She shook her head, still in a state of surprise at the violent turn the evening had taken. Her chest ached for the young woman upstairs, and when she absentmindedly squeezed Agent Hughes' hand she could not be sure if it was for his benefit or hers.

Her mind turned to Mustang, who must have gone from his initial state of worried anxiety to one of utter fear and shock. There was a sharp sensation in her chest when she thought of what he must be going through, and she felt terrible for having slammed him up against a car earlier to yell at him. However, she had needed the FBI agent and he had needed a metaphorical slap in the face. And she was impressed by his ability to ultimately act in that situation since very few could have functioned so well with their family involved. In fact, in a normal law enforcement situation, he would have been sent to the sidelines.

It was true she was accustomed to high-stress situations, to forcing her body into a calmer place, but she was far from perfect. Her tranquil outer appearance was at times misleading, and it was only due to his own mental state that he missed her pained reaction to seeing Mrs. Hughes on the kitchen floor, her tension in response to an innocent girl with a gun to her head. While Riza was generally in control, one thing she could never abide was the victimization of innocents. Honestly, it seriously pissed her off.

Her eye caught the blood spreading from Hughes' wound and she squeezed his hand again, hearing the murmurs of Mustang's conversation with his niece upstairs. Between the teenager's soft but audible sobs, Hughes' limp hand in hers, and the body in the kitchen, Riza was irrevocably taken back to the day her own mother died. The familiar crater in her chest continuing to grow the more she thought of it. She remembered it with excruciating clarity.

The day it actually happened, Elizabeth Hawkeye collapsed in the kitchen while making chocolate chip cookies for her daughter's birthday. Riza had been upstairs with Becca listening to music and tidying up their rooms so they would be allowed to have a movie night with her mother later. At one point, she decided to take a break to get a drink and went downstairs, racing into the kitchen when she saw her Mom lying motionless on the floor. A small pool of blood spread from where her head had smacked the edge of the counter and Riza felt like a knife had lodged itself between her ribs.

Dropping to her knees, she placed two fingers on her mother's neck and tears streamed instantly down her face when there was no pulse. She must have screamed or shouted because her friend came careening down the stairs a moment later. Grabbing the phone from the wall, she sat on the floor and cradled her mother's head in her lap, one hand latched on to Becca. She called her Dad, because he'd always said to call him if anything happened, and then toyed with the silk scarf her Mom wore to self-consciously cover her hairless head. Everyone had always told her she had lovely blonde hair, just like her mother used to have.

She could still smell that acrid scent of cookies burning, recalled the sunlight dancing on the floor, broken up by the branches of a tree just outside the kitchen window. She'd stared at the changing patterns of light on the floor while they waited.

Her father's associates, who to her were complete strangers, tried to revive her Mom, but they were unsuccessful and the body was taken away. They had the girls pack their bags and then Riza and Becca were put in the back of an SUV before being placed on a private plane. A few hours later, they walked into a safe house in Virginia and her Dad hugged them. She had cried all she could, and after that day her life was forever changed. She did not even return to New Orleans until her Dad died, at which point she figured her parents deserved to at least be together in death.

Her Mom did not die quickly, in and out of remission countless times, though the end came suddenly. It was the type of death that was torturous for both the victim and the loved ones that had to watch it happen. Riza had felt hollowed out but she learned to pretend, just like she knew her mother did on her worst days. She realized that, while the intensity of that feeling of loss fades, it never goes away completely and she felt an incredible sympathy for the young woman upstairs.

She abruptly glanced toward the staircase when she heard footsteps descending and quietly said to Hughes, "Don't worry, you won't be alone for long." She stood and ran a hand through her hair.

Mustang reached the foot of the steps just then and told her, "Sounds like we have company." His face tensed when his gaze found his friend. "Is he…?"

"He's alive, but he needs treatment as soon as possible."

His expression of concern somehow intensified further when he looked at her, eyes roving over her face. "Hey, are you okay?"

She nodded a bit more curtly than intended, moving past him up to the main floor. "I'm fine. That'll be the cleaning crew and the security detail." On the way up she checked her phone again, looking at the photos Olivier sent her of the agents that would be responding to the call. Once in the kitchen, she drew her weapon and strode toward the front door, gesturing for Mustang to open it. When she gave him another nod, he opened the door and she looked at the new arrivals, pistol at the ready. After recognizing each of their faces, she said, "Do you have the time?"

The man who must have been the head agent nodded and replied, "It's 0430 in Zanzibar."

Riza watched him for another moment and then returned her firearm to its holster. "Basement and kitchen." The EMTs and the cleaning crew filed inside, and she was just about to speak to the guards that had arrived for Elicia when Mustang placed a hand on her arm to get her attention.

"I'd like to speak with you for a second."

She met his eye, both curious and wary. "Okay." Addressing the security agents she said, "Wait here."

Mustang waved for her to follow him and then went back to the couch where his niece sat, offering her a hand to help her up. "Come on, Lici. Let's go upstairs and pack you a bag." She nodded wordlessly, numbly, and Riza followed them up to the second floor, wondering what he wanted. The young woman disappeared, presumably into her bedroom, and he led her to the end of the hall. He crossed his arms, running a hand along his jaw, and glanced back toward Elicia's bedroom to make sure she was not listening. Meeting her gaze, he kept his voice low. "I want to take her with us."

She stared at him for several moments, and then her eyebrows rose when she came to a realization. "You're serious...Are you _insane_?"

He placed a hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, shaking his head. "I know it sounds like it, but no."

"We are going after a man that you personally described as psychotic. The same man that just tried to murder her family...and nearly succeeded."

He half-turned and then came back, nodding once. "I know."

"Then you know this is a terrible idea." She understood the motivation behind his request, she truly did, but it was difficult to justify the risk to the rest of their team.

"Yes." He looked at her, and the pain and fear were etched all over his face, though they were controlled. "I already let something happen to her family, Hawkeye. And I can't stay with my friend, like he deserves, but I can protect his daughter."

He turned away again, full of concerned energy and she gripped his arm to turn him back around. "Mustang, there was no way you could have known...no way you could have stopped this." She reasoned he was the type that frequently assumed responsibility for many things, even events over which he had no control. Evidently they had that in common.

He waved that aside. "It doesn't matter." He paused. "I know this is dangerous and stupid and I'm not being logical, but I am convinced she would be safer with us." He took a breath. "I can't _believe_ I'm suggesting something so reckless, but...that girl is like my daughter." He gestured down the hallway toward the room his niece currently occupied.

She met his eye and then glanced down at the room in question, hardly able to believe she was actually considering such a ludicrous idea. She absentmindedly adjusted her jacket. "I get it. We protect people, and she's your family, and if we leave her with some guard detail he could get to her." She paused before again thinking out loud. "You're smart, and I know you're aware of the risk a civilian would present to our team."

"I know, but I don't trust anyone else to keep her safe." He glanced down the hall again and exhaled heavily. "I can't send her off with strangers after everything that's happened. Do you have any idea what that would be like for her?"

Her eyes widened a touch and she took a deep breath; he could not have known, but he'd struck a chord. While she had been surrounded by strangers immediately after her mother's death, at least she was with Becca. Her voice softened unintentionally, and if he noticed he did not comment. "I can imagine." Riza nodded slowly and met his gaze, her desire to help the teenager winning out. "I will agree to this, but on one condition."

"Anything."

"If this for any reason becomes too dangerous for everyone involved, we will make other arrangements for her."

"That's fair." He took a step away and then turned back to look at her. "Thank you, Hawkeye."

She nodded in response and then he walked away, toward his niece's bedroom. Riza faced the window next to which they had stood and gazed outside before watching her reflection, pulling her phone from her pocket. This move was unlike her. She did not make emotional decisions, which was one reason she had survived for so long. Still, she respected his drive to protect his niece and she could not deny that the girl would likely be much safer with them. With a bit of a sigh she dialed a number, slowly walking toward the young lady's bedroom.

"Well, it's about damn time," Becca answered, a teasing note in her voice.

"Hello to you, too. We had to make a pit-stop."

"Yeah, the Hughes family, Fuery told me. What happened?"

"Kimblee happened. One dead and one seriously wounded. The daughter seems physically unharmed."

"That son of a bitch...I can't wait to stick a fork in that fucker."

"Same here." She had a feeling that if Kimblee were in front of her in that moment she would put a bullet in his skull, no hesitation. "Hey, could you..."

"Hold on..." Her friend was shouting, but must have held the phone away. ' _I swear to god, Havoc, if you touch those brownies I will fucking kill you..._ '

"Okay." With an amused grin and a light laugh she stood near the door of the bedroom. Mustang looked at her, eyes narrowing slightly to silently inquire about her call, and she mouthed 'Becca' back to him. He nodded that he understood.

"Ok, I'm back."

"I heard brownies."

"Yes, and Havoc knows that some have to be saved for you or I will shoot him."

"I appreciate that...By the way, I need you to prep Denny's room. We're going to have a guest."

"What? The daughter? Are you sure about this?"

"Not remotely."

"Okay." Her friend paused. "It's not the most logical move...this is good for you."

Another amused smile started to curve her lips. "If you say so." Then, one of the agents appeared at the base of the stairs, trying to get her attention, and she held up a hand to tell him it would just be a moment. "I have to go."

"Okay, see ya soon."

"See ya." She turned to the other man. "Yes, agent?"

"We've stabilized him and are taking him out."

She nodded. "Thank you. Hold him at the door." The agent gave her a nod and then Mustang appeared at her elbow and made to move past her to see his friend, having heard the short conversation. She glanced at his niece and stopped him, meeting his eye and speaking softly. "You should take her to him."

"She doesn't need to see that."

"Yes, she does. _Trust_ me. She needs the chance to see him, to say what she needs to say, just in case." During her mother's illness they knew the odds were slim that she would go into full remission; they had their talk. But she never got to say goodbye to her father. Not really.

He watched her for a second, and she got the impression he was not only making the decision but also analyzing her possible motivations. He nodded and then broke eye contact, moving back toward his niece and pulling her into a hug.

Riza started down the stairs, hearing quiet words she could not quite make out, and then walked across the living room to the front door. She looked over at Agent Hughes, relieved he was stable, and then approached the head agent. She verified that the cleaning crew would stay until their task was complete, made sure they would secure the house, and dismissed the daughter's guards. Glancing at Gracia Hughes she shook off another shudder. It was eerie, but Mrs. Hughes was in nearly the same position as she had found her mother, save the bullet, of course. Just when Mustang and his niece appeared at the bottom of the stairs she stepped outside to give them some privacy, walking toward the car.

The night was calm and comfortable, in stark contrast to everything that had occurred in that house a short time before. She waited, leaning back against the car with her arms crossed, and tilted her face toward the sky. Numerous stars glittered, a few clouds scuttled across the dark background, and the neighborhood was incredibly quiet. Fortunately, Olivier had been able to put a stop to any possible police response to the shots fired or the street might have been ablaze with red and blue flashing lights.

Her phone rang abruptly and she did not recognize the number, but it was not uncommon for people in her circles to call from unfamiliar numbers. Accepting it, she remained silent and waited for the caller to speak.

" _Hello,_ _zolotse moya_." It was Barry, speaking in Russian, which was their indicator that, while he was near an unfriendly entity, he was not in danger.

She responded in kind. " _Borya_ _, how are you?_ " Borya was in truth a common nickname for Boris, but she often used it for Barry rather than say his real name.

" _I am quite well, thank you. Chatting with a friend and trying out my new knife set...it is proving quite effective_."

" _So you're having some fun, then._ " She glanced at Mustang and the girl as they approached, trying to avoid thinking of Barry's brand of fun.

" _Indeed...and my friend has become quite talkative_."

" _Is this about that_ _info_ _I forwarded to you?_ " The pair stopped in front of her and she met Mustang's eye for a moment.

" _It is. All details of this particular exchange are being kept extremely quiet,_ _and the guest list is_ _quite_ _ex_ _c_ _lusive_ _. I recommend your first stop be Paris. Have a talk with Maurice...I'm told he has the inside track._ "

" _I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see me._ "

" _If you have any trouble getting him to share, I'd be happy to assist._ "

" _Thank you,_ _Borya,_ _I'll let you know. But Maurice owes me for that_ _time in Minsk._ "

" _Well, if you change your mind...Back to work,_ _zolotse moya_ _._ "

" _Poka_ _._ " Riza ended the call and opened the rear passenger door for Elicia.

Mustang watched her, the corners of his lips playing at a smile. "You speak Russian?"

She smirked. "You don't?"

"Sadly, no. I missed Russian-day at Quantico." He paused, gesturing toward the girl next to him. "I'd like you to meet my niece, Elicia...Elicia, this is Hawkeye."

Riza offered her hand to the young woman, who took it hesitantly. "Hi, Elicia. Please, call me Riza."

Elicia merely nodded, which was entirely understandable, and then the trio climbed into the car, leaving in the direction of the safe-house. As she drove, Riza hoped this would not end badly.

* * *

Their trip passed mostly in silence, with Hawkeye driving and Roy sitting in the back seat with a still shaken Elicia, one arm around her shoulders. As they arrived at the safe-house he was thankful for its peaceful appearance, with a long, tree-bordered lane and elegant brick walls. While it was an unfamiliar location to her, he hoped the welcoming atmosphere would help her feel comfortable. As they walked to the main house he felt his niece's grip on him tighten and he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. He knew this all had to be incredibly overwhelming for her.

When they entered the house the living room was deserted, for which he was grateful since he figured it was not the best time to be introducing Elicia to the entire team. Fuery glanced back at them and waved from his place at his computer station, Roy responding with a small wave. At that moment, Rebecca came down the stairs, and the pair of women shared some silent communication before the brunette turned to his niece, a compassionate smile on her face.

Hawkeye spoke, gesturing to her friend. "Elicia, this is Becca. If you need anything at all, just let us know."

The teenager nodded, muttering a quiet, "Thank you."

Roy addressed the blonde. "I'll get her settled."

Hawkeye nodded and the two women moved toward the kitchen, speaking in low voices, while he led Elicia upstairs to Denny's room. As they walked in, he noticed the bedding had been changed, the attached bathroom had been cleaned, and also various items had been removed. He set her bag down next to the desk and saw her wander around the room rather aimlessly before perching on the edge of the bed. Roy pulled the desk chair over and took a seat with a sigh, running a hand over his face.

He exhaled again. "Lici, I..."

She interrupted him, looking at him with nervous eyes, voice shaky. "Is Dad gonna be okay, Uncle Roy?"

He considered her for a second. "I certainly hope so, kiddo. The EMTs were able to stabilize him at the scene, and that's a good sign." He paused. "I am so sorry, but I have to ask. What happened tonight?"

Her eyes started to get watery again, her respiration rate picked up, and she toyed with the bracelet around her wrist. She had taken it from Gracia before they left and he had not refused, thinking it might provide her with some comfort since she could not be with her Dad. "Umm...it...I'm not totally sure...it happened so fast. I was...I was helping Mom finish dinner, and Dad was in the basement doing something with the stupid furnace." She took an uneven breath and then cleared her throat. "All of a sudden, the sliding door's opening and this guy's in the kitchen pointing a gun at us. Mom grabbed me and pushed me behind her...we were backed into the counter. He, he told us to be quiet." A sob broke through. "Then another guy comes in and starts heading for the basement. So Mom shouted for Dad and...and...and he just _shot_ her."

Roy sat next to her on the bed, arm around her again, and her head fell on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Lici."

She cleared her throat again, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, shoulders trembling. "She just fell...right in front of me...and the blood..." She shook her head. "I heard a shout from downstairs, and then another gunshot...but then I don't know what happened cuz the guy upstairs was coming toward me." The teenager tensed. "I had nowhere to go, Uncle Roy. I...I didn't know what to do." She paused to take a breath. "And then he just stopped and yelled for the other guy, told him to go outside. Said someone was there. Then he grabbed me..." Her finger went to the point on her neck where the knife had broken skin. "...and he was looking around at all the doors and stuff. And then I saw you, Uncle Roy, and..." She trailed off.

He nodded. "And I know what happened from there." He paused. "Did you recognize these guys?"

She shook her head. "No...Never saw them before."

"Okay." He kissed the top of her head. "That's it for now. You did great, kiddo."

Elicia cried for a little while longer, and when her sobs finally ceased she once more wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked around the room. "Where _are_ we, Uncle Roy?"

He was wondering when these questions would begin. "We're at a safe-house."

"What's going on? Who are the people here? Is this where you've been since Dad said you had to go away?"

"Well, this is one of those things I can't tell you much about. I've told you about those types of cases, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Hawkeye and I are working together to catch a majorly evil guy."

"So, she's FBI, too?"

"Not exactly...but for now we've combined our teams. And, as for what's going to happen next, Hawkeye and I need to discuss that." He went to the bathroom for the box of tissues, handed it to her, and then resumed his seat in the desk chair. "The important thing is we're safe here." He paused. "And Lici, you can trust Hawkeye."

Elicia nodded. "Okay." Her head tilted to the side, her grin sly, like she caught him at something. "I thought you said you only trusted us and Aunt Chris."

He chuckled. "Well, she saved my life, my team, and now you...among other things." He shrugged a shoulder. "I kinda had to add her to the list."

Roy looked up at a knock on the door, which was then pushed open to reveal Rebecca. "Sorry to interrupt. I thought you might get hungry." She took a few steps into the room and set a tray carrying a glass of water and a sandwich on the bedside table. Giving Elicia another smile, she headed for the door and then turned again when she reached it. "There are clean towels in the bathroom, and the kitchen is downstairs to the right...if something else sounds good. Make yourself at home."

His niece looked over at her, produced her best polite smile under the circumstances, and replied with a soft, "Thank you." The other woman left the room and then Elicia rose to her feet. "I think I'll shower and try to sleep, Uncle Roy."

He nodded and stood. "Good idea. My room is three doors down...come get me if you need anything."

She gave a nod and said, "Okay," already heading toward the bathroom, still seeming slightly dazed.

Roy left the room and went to his own, leaning back on the closed door and feeling like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Finally able to let loose all the emotion he had been holding back, he raked a hand through his hair and slid down the door to the floor. Holding his head in his hands he stared at nothing, shaking his head in shock and disbelief. For the first time in years, he felt pressure building behind his eyes.

* * *

Two hours later Roy stepped outside onto the rear deck, quietly sliding the glass door closed to avoid waking anyone. He had tried to give Elicia space, while still keeping close by in case she needed anything. He had just checked on her, relieved to discover that half the sandwich was gone and she was asleep.

He exhaled and walked up to the railing, still coming to terms with everything that had happened through the course of the night. Gracia was dead. Just like that, and he could hardly believe it; she was practically a sister.

He stared out over an ocean which at that time appeared to be nothing more than a black, churning mass beneath a starry sky. It occurred to him that Maes would have liked the location of the safe-house. His friend always had a fondness for the ocean, and many of their trips together over the years had been to one coast or another. He thought about Hughes stuck in a hospital bed and was relieved that they had already received an update on his condition from Director Armstrong.

His friend was stable, the damage had been surgically repaired, and he was being given transfusions to compensate for massive blood loss. He was also being kept sedated, having suffered significant cranial trauma during his tussle with one of the gunmen. Roy's anger resurfaced every time he thought about what the Hughes family went through.

Looking around, he went down the stairs to the beach, taking a seat in a well-placed Adirondack chair. He was just wondering at how utterly to shit everything seemed to have gone recently when he heard soft footsteps in the sand. A second later, he saw a beer set down on the table to his left. Glancing up, he found Hawkeye standing next to the other chair, gazing out at the water. "I thought you could use a drink."

"Thanks." He picked it up and took a swig. Looking at her again, he saw she was still standing, as if waiting to see if he wanted company or solitude. "You can join me, if you like." He took another drink.

She met his gaze. "You're not the brood alone type?"

"Well, that depends. If you're like Havoc and have come to be persistently optimistic, then I am absolutely the brood alone type. But I don't think that's your style."

She shook her head and took a seat. "It's not." Hawkeye opened her own beer and drank, lips forming a smirk while she did so. "Havoc's too busy flirting anyway."

He chuckled. "What a surprise." Roy appreciated how thoughtful her move was. She brought him a drink as an offer of company if he wanted it, but did not assume her presence would be welcome. And she brought a drink of her own, just in case.

She took another sip and he saw her head turn slightly in his direction. "I'm sorry about your friend and his wife, Mustang."

He nodded. "So am I."

"How's Elicia?"

"She's doing as well as can be expected." He sighed, shaking his head, and his voice lowered, one hand briefly clenching into a fist. "This wasn't supposed to be her story."

"That is one brave young woman. She deserved better."

"She's a good kid. I just...I wish I could do more."

Hawkeye became thoughtful, the beer bottle poised partway to her lips. "She knows you're here for her." After a moment she added, "She's lucky to have an uncle like you, and I think she knows that."

"Thank you." He glanced at her again, a grin of amusement blossoming. "So, how's Barry?"

She looked at him with a smile, eyebrows raised. "So you _do_ speak Russian?"

"Who doesn't? By the way..." He lifted the fingertips of one hand to his neck. "...did you tell him about my scar from that cleaver?"

"I'll make sure to let him know next time...he'll be thrilled."

"I'm not. My neck was one of the few scar-free zones I had left before that bastard came along."

She smirked. "Some would think of it as a badge of honor."

" _Who_? Who are these people?"

"The lucky few who have survived an encounter with Barry the Chopper."

He turned his head toward her, eyes wide. " _The_ Chopper? You're serious?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you one of these survivors?"

That smirk reappeared, and he was learning that was her most common smile. And that they were easy to miss at times. "How do you think we met? He didn't get too close though...I shot him a couple times."

"Jesus...and now you're allies?"

"It's a long story."

"It would have to be." He chuckled, following it with another swig of beer.

"Where'd you learn Russian?"

He leaned his head back to rest against the chair. "My aunt dated this Russian guy for a few years. Really shady...but he liked me and taught me. Where did _you_ learn Russian?"

"From a woman my Dad worked with frequently in his other career. Her name was Alya and she was the best safe-cracker in the business. She was around pretty often, being one of the few people he didn't hate. She taught me Russian, and everything there was to know about safes and vaults." Hawkeye paused in thought, taking a drink, and then leaned back in her chair. "I owe you an apology, Mustang. I wasn't entirely truthful earlier."

"How so?"

"Well, I did actually learn to pick a lock when I was five, but my real start happened after I met Alya. Want to hear it?"

"Very much." Frankly, Roy was extremely interested in her past, having worked with her father and never known about her, and the fact that she was generally so reserved made him want to take advantage of this opportunity. He found he was not angry that she had held back, since caution was so clearly in her nature and that's not something that changes in the blink of an eye, if ever.

"One day, this was years ago, she came to the safe-house we were at and picked me up. I had no idea where she was taking me, she wouldn't tell me. After a drive we parked at this random building, she took me inside, and there was Dad, in the middle of...work."

He chuckled. "Come on, Hawkeye, we're on the same team now."

She eyed him for a few seconds, deciding something. "...so Dad's clearing out a vault, sees us, and is instantly _furious_." She gave another laugh. "And when he got mad he'd always get a little red in the face..."

"Don't forget the hands on the hips," Roy added with a knowing grin.

She pointed at him. "Right, but it was when his eyes narrowed just-so that you knew you were a goner." Hawkeye met his eye. "We had all three."

He shook his head, amused grin growing. "Oh, I feel bad for that woman." He was surprised by how conversational she was at that moment. He had never seen her so talkative, and it occurred to him that this must be a particularly fond memory for her.

"It's true that Dad may have had a bit of a cranky side."

"That is a _magnificent_ understatement and you know it."

She shrugged. "Anyway, he's about to storm out and get rid of us, but Alya just slams the vault door in his face, locks it back up, and calls the cops…"

"She _what_?"

"Yes...Then she looks at me and says, 'You have seven minutes to open that vault and rescue your Dad'..." She paused to drink. "Then, she tossed me her bag, told me to 'get to it,' and left."

"And you did it." He watched her, eyes a bit wider than normal. "How old were you?"

"Sixteen...and I popped it in two minutes." She leaned her head back, looking up at the stars. "That woman taught me how to stay calm under fire."

His gaze once more moved to the ocean and he observed the waves. "Thank you, Hawkeye."

"For?"

"You just opened up a little. And I appreciate the distraction."

She stretched her legs out, feet pushing into the sand. "I suppose I did...and you're welcome."

"I'm glad we got off track, but I should ask...what did Barry have to say?"

"We need to go Paris. There's a sleezy little money launderer named Maurice that we need to talk to."

"This sounds good...I liked Paris."

"Really? You almost died in Paris."

"I almost die in many places."

"You should find that at least moderately disturbing." They shared a glance, each with a smirk, and clinked bottles in a wordless agreement. Then they relaxed, enjoying the calming effect of nature and companionable silence.

* * *

 **AN** **:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a good one! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

Guest (Jul 25): Thank you! I'm so glad to hear you like the story and are looking forward to more :)

Hermit Crab: Thank you! It did get pretty intense, so I hope this one is a bit of a reprieve :)


	12. Sanctum (Part 1)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! I know this update is overdue...for some reason it feels like it has been longer than a few weeks. Life has been a little crazy the past several weeks and because of the nature of some of those goings-on it was rather difficult for me to get into the writing frame of mind. If the last chapter felt at all off, that is likely why, and I plan to take another look at that chapter just in case. No major changes, but possibly some additional fine-tuning. Anyway, guest reviews for the previous post can be found at the end of this one.

(Character/codename reminder: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Falman/Mani...Grumman/Odin/The General...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen)

I hope you like the chapter! :)

* * *

 **Sanctum** (Part 1)

Riza sat up straight and stretched her neck, one hand absentmindedly reaching up to rub a particularly tense muscle along her spine. It was late in the evening, approximately twenty-four hours after the shooting at the Hughes' home, and she had been putting the finishing touches on a few pages she would be including in Elicia's new passport. In the seat next to her at the counter, Fuery was busy building a false trail for anyone looking for Mustang's niece, as well as planting electronic records in various databases to anchor her new identity. In addition to the passport, they were giving her a driver's license, transcripts, work history, and university identification card.

It was quite possible all that work was unnecessary, and she knew they did not exactly have the time to spare. However, one of her favorite and most boring mottoes was 'better safe than sorry,' and she felt it applied in this case. That, and forgery was fun. She wanted to ensure that Elicia could pass through any country, even those with the resources to verify the more sophisticated security measures. Since next step of the process was to change the photo, which required a little document surgery, she shut her eyes briefly, giving her already strained eyes a break.

The attack on the Hughes family had been difficult for all of them to accept, and managed to put the group at large even more on edge where Kimblee was concerned. The reasons to despise him kept piling up and they had now seen first hand his lack of respect for human life, which made the idea of him with a weapon of mass destruction even more horrifying.

Elicia was handling everything surprisingly well for having lost her mother and been thrown headlong into the controlled chaos of their team. It helped that Mustang was an excellent supportive uncle despite his own pain in the wake of the incident. And he was nearly able to hide it perfectly, but Riza could see the cracks, noticed the way his face fell slightly when he thought no one was looking.

The members of both teams were attempting to make the young woman feel welcome while simultaneously giving her space. Falman, on the other hand, chose to launch into a detailed and graphic explanation of why her mother felt little to no pain based on the range of the shot, size of the bullet, location of the wound, and the swiftness of her death. Elicia cried, and Falman was unceremoniously banned from saying anything. Ever.

Fortunately, Riza had received good news from Olivier: Hughes was still alive, still stable. They were not planning to wake him anytime soon, there were guards at his room around the clock, and Director Armstrong had even gone in person to make sure security was tight. The shooting had affected her friend more than she had expected, as Olivier was the most unflappable person she had ever met.

Opening her eyes Riza pulled herself from the reverie and returned to the present, filling her mug with coffee in the hope of avoiding the headache she could feel coming. The kitchen was full of chatter, with Havoc and Breda goodnaturedly bickering about details for Elicia's fake life. Around an hour into hers and Fuery's work, the guys had volunteered to help, and ended up providing more entertainment than any real assistance.

"I still say we make her something cool..." Havoc was in the middle of telling his friend. "...like an astronaut in training, or a member of the Olympic Curling team. This is a once in a life time chance."

"No, no, no...god you are an idiot, dude." Breda had an expression on his face that begged for help, but their audience simply chuckled.

"Common practice dictates that her occupation should not be anything that would stand out," Falman interjected from his perch at the table where he had been reading. "She is much too young to be involved in any astronaut program."

"Geeze, Vato, thanks for kicking a man while he's down," Havoc retorted, before once more rounding on Breda. "Okay, so astronaut might be conspicuous, but no one even knows who's _on_ the curling team. Seems like a safe bet."

"Except that Elicia probably doesn't know what curling _is_ ," Heymans replied.

"Everyone knows about curling. It's only one of the coolest sports of the winter Olympics." Havoc paused. "Pun not intended, but I liked it."

"We've discussed this...the best winter Olympic sport is obviously hockey."

"No way, man. Figure skating is way better...they're so damn graceful." When he said the last word, he made a flourish with his hand, similar to those frequently done by figure skaters or dancers.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Havoc?"

"I have to go with hockey," Becca added, entering the kitchen and taking a break from her own work, which had involved packing their equipment and acquiring anything else they might need. "There's just something magical about a bunch of guys skating around, scoring goals, and beating the shit out of each other." She grinned.

Breda looked at her for several seconds. "You should probably marry me...I'm free right now if you have time."

"Dude..." Havoc turned to him, hands and shoulders in a 'what the hell' gesture.

"Come on, man. You had a crush on _Hawkeye_ while we were chasing them. Like an actual crush...don't pretend you didn't." After Breda spoke both women looked up at Havoc, eyebrows raised.

" _God_ you're a dick."

"I know."

"Am I to understand that I was your second choice, Jean?" Becca took a seat next to the blonde woman, who tried to bite back a smirk, and crossed her arms.

"Not what I'm saying _at all_." He glanced at Breda, silently asking for help, but the other man just shrugged with a grin the size of Montana. Havoc turned to look at the two women, his mouth hanging open as his mind raced to determine what to say. "See, the thing is...Okay, Hawkeye, you do awesome things with guns, and rappel down buildings...Which is all pretty hot and impressive, but you're also kinda scary sometimes."

Riza tilted her head to the side, eying him. "So Becca doesn't do awesome, hot things?" She elbowed her friend. "I think you're pretty hot."

"Thanks. I think you're hot, too."

"Okay, ladies." Havoc interjected into the conversation. "'You're kinda putting words in my mouth here, cause that's _not_ what I said."

"Well, what are you saying?" Becca was having a difficult time hiding her smile as well.

"Well, Bec...you're..." Havoc suddenly looked toward the empty staircase near the entryway. "What's that, Roy? You need to talk to me _right now_? Sure thing, man. Anything for a friend..." With that he practically ran out of the kitchen and up to the second floor, making good his escape.

"Coward!" Breda called, chuckling and strolling after his friend.

"Done!" Fuery gleefully declared in that moment and leaned back in his seat with a yawn, having finished cementing the backstory for Elicia. "And now, I'm gonna go pass out."

"Night, Kain," Riza smiled. After he left, she gave another smile and looked at the brunette next to her. "Aww...Havoc really likes you. He was all deer-in-headlights just now."

"I know. We did torture him a little, but it was so much fun." Becca grinned once more. "He's a mega dork. And he's not a criminal...this is uncharted territory."

"It's good for you."

"Hey, that's my line."

"I'm borrowing it." She glanced at her friend, who gave her a well-known look. "Rebecca Mae Catalina, if you ask me if I'm okay one more time, I will hurt you."

"That is _not_ my middle name."

"Only because your parents sucked and didn't give you one," she teased.

Becca laughed. "Then I'm lucky I have a friend that loves me enough to middle-name me anyway." She paused. "You know I only ask because I care. It's just been crazy...the Stone, Denny, your Dad's deathaversary, the shooting..."

She nodded. "I know. I promise to tell you if I'm not okay."

"You better." The brunette then stood and made her way to the door. "Night, Riz."

"Night."

Once she was alone Riza returned her focus to the passport, working steadily for a while longer. She flipped the photo page over and carefully peeled apart the paper and the laminate, using another substance to breakdown the adhesive. Then, she double checked that the security measures had not been compromised since on that page alone there was a guilloche that would overlap the photo, special watermarks, and images that varied in color depending on the angle, among other things. Satisfied nothing was damaged, she placed the photo they had taken of the young woman and fine-tuned the edges with a sharp blade. Finally, with a deft touch, she removed the old photo and replaced it with Elicia's covering it with the thin sheet that resided between the photo and the page. She had just applied a fresh layer of a quick-drying adhesive and set the page under a book to stabilize it when she saw movement nearby. Looking up, she saw Elicia standing in the doorway to the kitchen, appearing slightly uncertain. A redness lingered around her eyes and she appeared fatigued, implying that whatever sleep she had gotten throughout the day had been restless.

Riza took out her headphones and gave her a small smile. "Hey, Elicia. Hungry?"

A tiny grin appeared on her face in return and she shook her head as she glanced over the array of items on the counter. "No, I just couldn't sleep. Mind if I join you?"

"Please do." She gestured toward the other stools. "Have a seat." Standing to refill her mug, she lifted the pot and added, "Coffee?" The younger girl nodded so she filled another mug and passed it to her, sliding the cream and sugar toward her should she want some.

They both sipped quietly and then Elicia's curious smile grew as her eyes again roved over the counter. " _What_ are you doing?"

"Making you a passport."

"What, like forging one?"

She chuckled and set her coffee down the check the photo page, finding that the adhesive had set. "Yes."

The teen's eyes widened a touch in surprise, as if she had anticipated a vague response as opposed to the truth. "That sounds hard...and kind of illegal. Am I gonna be arrested?"

"It can be hard to make a good one." Riza smiled as she gathered the various sheets of paper and the outer cover, lining them up in order to stitch the booklet back together. "One passport is made of around sixty different materials. They have a bunch of security measures like RFID chips, holograms, watermarks, special stamps, certain types of fibers, images that only show up under specific wavelengths...it's a pretty long list." She paused while she worked. "You won't be arrested, though."

Elicia was silent for short time, drinking her coffee and staring off into space. Suddenly, she asked, "Riza, did your Mom die?"

She froze for an instant and then, picking up her mug, she said, "Yes."

The sadness in her expression intensified. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

She neatly secured the ends and set the document aside. "Elicia, it's alright. You just surprised me, and that doesn't happen often."

The teen watched her, as if trying to decide if her question had upset her. "I'm sorry...I just...I keep seeing her lying there...blood on the floor. That's why I couldn't sleep. And I feel like I should have done something. And everyone's been so nice...it's not that." She cleared her throat and took another drink. "When most of them look at me, they see the poor kid who just lost her Mom and they watch me with their sad eyes waiting for me to burst into tears. But the way you act, the way you talk to me...it made me feel like you understood. It was _sympathy_ , not pity." She took a breath. "And I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have asked, but..."

"It's okay." Riza sipped her coffee. "She died when I was fifteen, but she had been sick for three years. Cancer...she collapsed in the kitchen." She looked away at nothing in particular. "Her body just couldn't fight anymore."

"I know Uncle Roy lost his parents, so he understands, but I don't want to make him worry more than he already does." She paused, reaching for her mug. "Do you know what happened to them? He never talks about it."

Riza hesitated. "Yes."

"He _told_ you? Dad wouldn't tell me."

"It's not my place to say anything, Elicia. If he wants to talk about it, he will."

She nodded. "That's fair. I guess I get it more now...the not wanting to talk about it." She raised her mug to her lips. "Thank you, Riza, for telling me about your Mom."

"You're welcome."

They sat in a comfortable, thoughtful silence for a short time, and then: "What's curling?"

Riza laughed. "I'm sure Havoc would tell you all about it."

"He asked me if I wanted to be on the Olympic curling team. And then he asked me about my stance on zoology...his words."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't worry, you don't have to know about either of those." Riza's suddenly eyes jumped to the doorway when a series of muffled sounds came from the hallway, and then she placed the passport in Elicia's hands mouthing, 'keep talking.'

The teen's eyes grew wider. "Uh...I got an A on my History paper."

"That's great! What was it about?" She stood and moved around the counter, slowly dimming the lights to decrease visibility to put the newcomer's at a disadvantage.

"Ancient Egypt...the customs, religion, politics...you know, all the fun stuff." Elicia's eyes followed her nervously and she had stiffened in her seat.

She pulled a knife from the block and set it on the counter within easy reach, slipping one hand into a cabinet to activate a silent alarm that would alert the rest of the team. "How about that science paper? I know you worked hard on that one."

As Elicia replied, she guided the teen to stand next to her, their backs to the fridge. "Oh, right. I got an A on that, too. I really love those Punnett squares."

"That's wonderful. And that math exam coming up?" As she spoke she counted the steps she heard, judging the distance: they sounded like boots, the heavy-duty variety, and the paces were slow but approaching their position. She could not tell how many there were, but she highly doubted they were friendly.

"I'm totally ready for that...I'm all up on graphing equations and..."

When the barrel of an assault rifle passed the edge of the refrigerator Riza grabbed it and pulled, jabbing at his neck to collapse his airway and kicking sideways at his knee. A sickening crack sounded and she let him fall, grabbing the knife and whipping it at the next man that appeared. Dropping down she took the first thug's firearm and pulled the trigger when another armed individual rushed into the opening. He fell where he stood.

Riza spun, checking the living room and looking for Elicia, her chest tightening when she could not see her. She moved to the side, using the fridge as a precautionary shield, and then saw the teen on the floor next to the kitchen island, having used it for cover. She helped the younger woman up and, looking around, quickly analyzed their options: they could not escape via the deck or the living room as she saw movement outside and they would have no cover. Unfortunately that left the hallway. It was a kill zone, but it was also a choke point, which she could use to her advantage.

She spoke quietly and glanced at the girl while she checked the weapon's magazine. "I need you to do exactly what I say."

"Okay." Elicia nodded, eyes still wide.

She squeezed off a few quick rounds into the hallway and then spun when sliding glass doors shattered in the living room, dropping the two men near the couch that had just entered. "Follow me, and don't lose that passport." She could make out more gunfire from elsewhere in the house.

"Okay."

She peeked into the hallway, which was empty for the moment and then placed a hand on her shoulder, ears tuned for any sound, keeping her voice low. "If we're separated, get out of the house and head southeast...that way..." She pointed. "There's a boat...Get on it...that's where everyone will go."

Elicia nodded.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

She felt the teen's hand on her back and cautiously moved into the hall. Not a second later the weapon was shot from her hand, she pushed Elicia back into the kitchen, and jumped for the pistol she kept atop the cupboard above the fridge. Popping one into the chamber she knelt, swung around the left doorframe, and fired, putting one through his neck. Reaching back and grasping the girl's arm she led them to the right down the hall, in the direction of the garage.

Just as they passed the basement someone burst through the door and collided with her, sending her shoulder into the wall. She turned and found a pistol muzzle in her face, raising her hand and pushing it aside just in time for a bullet hole to appear to the right of her head. She shouted, "Elicia, down!" and gripped the weapon, flicking on the safety, twisting it to her left and breaking the man's trigger finger. There was a quiet pop and she kneed him in the groin before kicking him back down the stairs.

"Riza!" Elicia cried, pointing toward the end of the hallway to their left.

With her attacker's pistol still in her hand, she disengaged the safety and pulled the trigger. Two hostiles fell against the wall rather than one and she spun to find out who had fired the other shot. Exhaling in relief when she recognized the Falman, she said, "Thanks."

He nodded, peeking around the end of the wall to check the living room. He started to turn and opened his mouth to speak when his head jerked to the left from the force of a bullet. Elicia muffled a scream.

Riza retrieved her gun from the kitchen and trained one weapon on each end of the hall, her head roving from side to side. They cautiously paced sideways toward the living room, but more gunfire rang out and a body fell before she even had a line of sight on the man that shot Falman. Elicia's grip on her shirt tightened and she continued scanning the area as they moved, waiting for the mystery gunman to appear. Footsteps neared and her finger hovered near the trigger, flexing when the barrel of a weapon came into her field of vision. She knelt to avoid his direct line of sight and lowered Elicia with her, keeping her girl behind her. Before she could shoot out a knee cap Mustang darted down the stairs, firing a few rounds from his borrowed assault rifle and cracking the nearest guy in the head with the butt of the weapon.

"Uncle Roy!"

He ran toward them and reached out a hand to help them both up, also frequently glancing at either end of the hallway. "You okay, kiddo?" She simply nodded, wide eyed, and his gaze moved to Riza. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied and then added, "That's where we have to go." As she spoke, she tilted her head in the direction of the closest side-door. It was at the far end of the hall that ran along the garage, and they would have to cross the open area of the entryway to reach it. They positioned his niece between them and his eyes followed hers to the door in question before examining every inch of space left to get there. They shared a look, making a series of gestures to silently decide how to handle the situation.

With a nod, Riza secured her pistol at her back, dumped the extra, and took possession of the nearest assault rifle. Checking the mag, she took a deep breath and broke into a run across the entryway to draw enemy fire, spraying bullets into the living room while Mustang did the same from his position. Her momentum carried her past the wall and she stopped to reload with the extra mag she had taken from the downed hostile, then spinning to lay down suppressive fire while Mustang and his niece sprinted to join her.

Once they had reached her they both squeezed off several additional rounds before she waved for them to follow. She whipped the side door open when they arrived, surveying the immediate area for any forms moving among the trees. Looking back at Mustang she said, "I told Elicia where to go...I'll cover you from here."

"You're not coming?"

She shook her head and glanced outside again. "I have to go back for something. I'll meet you there."

His expression was one of disbelief. "We have no idea how many there are...whatever it is, leave it."

Riza met his eye. "I can't. _Go_...I will meet you." His eyes confirmed he thought she was nuts so she added, "Trust me when I say this is not an option." She felt to make sure her pistol was still at her back and gestured toward the door with her rifle. "I'll cover you."

He watched her for a few more seconds, possibly deciding if he should just leave or try to persuade her, and then nodded. "Fine."

"I'll be there in ten." They ran out the door and she fired around them, straining her eyes against darkness, until they reached the treeline. Once they did she moved back down the hall, the weapon always at the ready. There were several bodies on the floor, but she could no longer hear signs of combat from anywhere else in the house. The silence was odd. Abruptly, more gunshots started in earnest, as if they were given the order to spray it up. She slipped into the garage, sprinted in a crouch to one end and dropped to the ground behind the rightmost vehicle. Bullets were punching holes in the garage doors, and the dull thud of rounds could be heard from the other side of the wall: she didn't have much time.

Setting her firearm within easy reach, Riza made quick work of the panel on the wall which was hidden by the car. She pushed it aside and pulled out two bags, tearing into one and removing various items. Rapidly, she pulled on the boots in the go-bag, reloaded her weapon from the kitchen, slung the other backpack over her shoulders, and collected the rifle she had appropriated.

Just when she was about to stand, she heard someone force their way through a damaged garage door and instead stooped closer to the vehicle. Lowering herself back to the ground, she checked under the car to count the number of pairs of boots. Her eyes widened and her chest fell when she saw that the General was under an SUV nearby, clearing bleeding. He held up his own gun and shrugged to wordlessly tell her he was out of bullets.

"Shit," she breathed, and then nodded to him. Extending her arm back she drew the pistol she'd just reloaded and held it so he could see it. She listened for the soldiers' movements and then, at the opportune moment, slid it across the floor to him and met his gaze. He nodded again, holding up five fingers to indicate the number of hostiles near him.

Returning to a normal crouch she made sure the bag was secure on her shoulders and exhaled slowly. Then, she exploded to her feet and spun, pulling the trigger and dispatching targets one-by-one. She heard other shots and dropped behind the car, rolling and coming into a crouch at the other end to fire off more rounds.

Between herself and her grandfather they eliminated the immediate threats and she could hear shouts as she raced to help him from the floor. He was shot in the abdomen and the leg, and she knew that if they tried to escape on foot they would be sitting ducks. She pointed at the nearest vehicle and while he climbed painfully into the passenger seat of the SUV she ran to the box on one wall to obtain the keys. Sprinting back to the car she jumped in, threw it into reverse, punched the gas and they flew out the still closed garage door, bullets immediately pelting the vehicle.

Performing a neat 180 she sped off toward the beach, slightly disappointed that several hostiles managed to jump out of the way. They were on the sand, around a hundred yards past the treeline, when someone finally managed to deflate their last tire and kill the engine with a well-aimed shot. Riza exited the car and ran to the other side, helping her grandfather out.

"Just leave me, little queen...we'll never make it."

"Not a fucking chance, General." She pulled his arm over her shoulders and they began to run, and partially hobble, as quickly as possible toward the dock where their escape waited. He fired behind them at intervals, but they both knew more attackers would come.

* * *

 **AN:** Hi! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a lovely day! :)

 **Responses to guest review** (in order of posting):

Hermit Crab: Hi! Thank you so much. I'm so glad you like the details and stories they're sharing with each other, and the development of their relationship. Haha and as for Havoc...brownie theft is very bad and he should know better.


	13. Sanctum (Part 2)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Surprise post! I know that was a very mean cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter, so here is part 2. I hope you like the chapter!

(Character/codename reminder: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Grumman/Odin/The General...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen)

* * *

 **Sanctum** (Part 2)

Roy raced across the lawn with his niece to the sound of suppressive fire, thinking about how he'd brought her here for safety and now they were running from unknown attackers. He could almost feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, recognized the restrained tension in his body. He was on high alert, in a state of increased awareness, poised to run or fight, whichever was necessary to keep Elicia alive. His mind raced, not frantically but cautiously, sifting through ideas and possibilities.

Kimblee was the only person he could think of that would be behind the attack, but he was at a loss as to how the location of the safe-house had been discovered. They had all thought the safe house was completely secure. He also pondered what could be so important that Hawkeye would stay behind, but his priority was Elicia, and part of him knew it would have been pointless to try to change the woman's mind. Besides, she could handle herself. He recognized she had been protecting his niece, and he was extremely grateful for that.

He grabbed Elicia and yanked her to his right, pausing behind a shed as shots were returned from the trees, and then again broke into a sprint when Hawkeye started shooting again. He had to give the woman credit. In spite of the gloom she was hitting targets, as evidenced by the decrease in number of muzzle flashes along the treeline. Keeping his niece behind him, he kept the rifle at the ready, braced against his shoulder, squeezing the trigger whenever he saw someone peek out of the foliage.

Once they entered the woods they ran on for what he deemed a sufficient distance before he allowed them a break. Looking back through the leaves, he could just make out the door on the side of the house and saw it was already closed. He removed the magazine on his firearm for a moment, counting the rounds it still contained, and then replaced it.

He kept his voice low, continuously searching the gloom around them. "Where'd she tell you to go?"

"Umm..." Elicia's voice was shaky, and she looked around anxiously. "Southeast...she said there's a boat and that's where everyone will be."

He nodded. "Okay...stay with me." He saw something in her hand. "What's that?"

She held it up. "The passport she made me. Riza told me not to lose it."

He took it and placed it in his pocket, since if she dropped it there was no way they would find it. "You run ahead of me. Southeast is that way..." He gestured with his arm. "Run as fast as you can, I'll keep up."

She nodded.

"Let's go." She broke into a run and he walked quickly backwards for several steps, watching for anyone on the approach. When he saw nothing he turned, and just as he was picking up speed someone flew out of the trees. He fired, missing by a near margin, and was bowled over as the other man tackled him to the ground. "Run, Lici!"

The attacker managed to punch him in the face, having taken him by surprise, and then landed a fist to his gut. Roy coughed unavoidably and caught the man's hand as it swung around for another assault. He noticed a glint on his clothing and pulled a knife from its sheath, slicing at his upper thigh near the femoral artery. He then gripped the guy's other arm and stabbed him in the abdomen, reaching for his weapon that had fallen and shooting him in the chest.

He pushed the man off him and rolled to his feet, taking only a couple steps before two more hostiles stepped out into the small clearing. He fired on one who dove behind a tree and, using his momentum, got close to the other, grabbing the man's gun and pushing it away before it was fired. Rapidly spinning, Roy threw his head back, cracking the guy's nose, and then rammed an elbow into his solarplexus. He fired a few more rounds to keep the other attacker at bay and then reversed his grip on his weapon, finding a place not covered by Kevlar and squeezing the trigger three times.

As the man fell he took his gun and broke into a sprint while opening fire on the tree the other enemy was using for cover. Then he dove, twisting in the air as he passed it and shooting the thug in the temple. Roy landed on his back and immediately rose into a half-seated position, his weapon trained on the man now slumped to the ground. Wide eyed he watched him, trying like hell to catch his breath and fully expecting him to move, all the while amazed that a reckless maneuver like that had worked.

Finally climbing to his feet, he grabbed the enemy's night-vision goggles and increased his pace in Elicia's direction. He felt for her passport in his pocket and relief jettisoned through him when it was still there. She was not as far away as she should have been and as he placed a hand at her back he gruffly said, "I told you to keep going."

They sprinted in a southeasterly direction and he couldn't help but smile when they saw a small dock up ahead with a speedboat at the end of the quay. They stepped up onto the wooden structure, continued at a run, and he saw several figures moving around the vehicle. They slowed as they neared the boat and firearms were immediately raised in their direction.

"Hey, Roy. Nice of you to join us," Havoc greeted him, offering Elicia a hand to help her into the boat.

"Boss!" Maria said, appearing from the cabin and walking toward him. "Are you guys okay?" Her worried eyes jumped from himself to his niece.

He nodded. "Who are we missing?"

Becca replied while she did something with the electrical panel below the steering wheel, her voice brusque. "Riza, Grumman, and Falman." Suddenly, she stood and took a step away. "Dammit! Fuery...Breda...can you guys take a look at this? I'm not sure why it's not working. We took the fucking thing out on the water just the other day. Somebody must have fucked with it."

"Sure thing." Breda came around from the front of the structure. "Oh hey, Boss. What's up?"

"Oh, not much. Running, getting shot at...just a normal day."

Elicia tapped him on the arm to get his attention. "Umm...Uncle Roy…Falman was shot."

Six voices said " _What_?!" simultaneously and everyone on the boat looked at her in surprise as Roy continued, "Are you sure?"

"Yes...it happened just before you found us."

"Shit...I didn't even see him." Exasperation, sadness and guilt bled through in his voice and his hand tightened on the rifle. Kimblee just kept taking them out one by one and in that moment Roy was feeling somewhat helpless to stop it. He raised the night-vision goggles and performed a quick survey of the beach, half-hoping he would find an enemy to shoot. Letting his hand fall back to his side he shook his head, glancing at each person on the boat in turn. If he had his way, there would be no more victories for Kimblee.

She nodded. "He saved us...me and Riza...and then..."

"Dammit..." Havoc exhaled from his position as lookout, shaking his head, his own frustration plain. "Dammit... _dammit_...Do we know how these assholes found us?"

Roy shook his head, moving to join him. "I'm not sure. They had no way of knowing we'd show up during the hit, and they'd have no reason to track Elicia…she can't drive, doesn't work..." A thought occurred to him and he trailed off, tilting his head slightly and glancing at his niece. "But they might have been tracking Maes and Gracia. Hey, Lici. let me see your Mom's bracelet." Her expression was one of confusion as he took the jewelry and then dropped it on the floor. "I'm really sorry about this." He used the butt of his weapon to crush it and then crouched down to search through the remnants, lifting out the small device that did not belong.

Breda held out a hand for it and examined the tracker. "Whoa...this is hi-tech, Boss."

"Why would Kimblee track them though if he was just going to order a hit?" Ross wondered.

"Probably to find the best time and location to...you know." Roy took the tracker back and tossed it over the side as he looked over at the clock near the steering wheel. He then surveyed the beach since Hawkeye had said she would be there in ten minutes and that amount of time had come and gone. He took a few steps to stand next to Havoc. "See anything? Hawkeye should have been here by now."

"Not yet. Where the hell is she?"

He squinted through the goggles when he thought he saw movement near the treeline. Suddenly, two figures emerged, one supporting the other who happened to be covered in blood, and a moment later he realized it was Hawkeye and Grumman. He could not be sure, but it seemed that other figures were moving in the woods. Then he heard gunfire, saw muzzle flashes, and he was certain. He tossed the goggles aside, handed his weapon to Breda, and told him, "Cover me!" before jumping back onto the dock and sprinting away.

He reached the beach-end of the quay just as they did and took Grumman's other arm, throwing it over his shoulders. They picked up speed, basically carrying the older man, as shots rang out all around them. Up ahead, the boat roared to life and behind them their attackers were quickly nearing the dock.

The trio kept their pace and jumped into the open area of the vessel, at which point Becca pulled it out to sea. She increased their speed rapidly and he held onto Grumman as Hawkeye shrugged off her bag and grabbed a small, black transmitter. She tapped a button and just as they were passing the safe house it burst into flame, numerous explosions occurring around the foundation and within the building. Flames and smoke shot toward the sky, and in the orange glow they could see the man-shaped silhouettes that surrounded the house.

Hawkeye tossed her bag into the cabin and turned back to her grandfather, leaning down to check his pulse. She then placed her ear near his mouth, evidently listening for air and said, voice taut with fear, "He stopped breathing."

"Havoc, help me carry him into the cabin." Roy and his friend took the older man below and gently laid him on the floor.

The blonde woman dropped to her knees next to him and grabbed a towel nearby, tossing it to Havoc to staunch the wound on his upper abdomen. "Starting compressions." She tilted Grumman's head back, placed the heel of her hand on his sternum, laced the fingers of her other hand with it, and began CPR.

Roy moved to the wound on the man's leg and tore another towel into strips, securing them around the leg as a tourniquet. Next to him, Hawkeye was counting compressions and then bent further for the breaths, repeating the process. Seconds later Rebecca descended the few steps into the cabin, carrying a portable defibrillator and placing the leads on his chest while the device charged. "Clear."

Hawkeye backed away and the older man's body seized with the electrical current running through it. She then check for a pulse and shook her head, continuing CPR as she waited for the defibrillator to again charge. When it was ready, Catalina repeated, voice wavering, "Clear" and everyone moved away.

The blonde checked for a pulse once more and he saw her shoulders fall as she exhaled in disappointment, returning to compressions. Rebecca's voice once more said, "Clear" and Hawkeye backed away, her hand flying to the pulse point on Grumman's neck when his body relaxed from the charge. She took her hand away slowly, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, head shaking.

"Riz," Becca softly said, shaking her head sadly, eyes welling with tears.

"Even if we could restart his heart..." Havoc quietly added. "...he's lost so much blood."

Hawkeye made no further response, staring at her grandfather as she leaned back against the bench behind her, blood-covered hands resting on her knees. Roy handed her the remainder of the towel and she wiped her hands on it absentmindedly, then running one through her hair. There was a sheen of sweat on her furrowed brow, and the clothing on her left side was soaked in blood. Her breaths were unsteady, and he could tell she was fighting to control her emotions. He saw her eyes glimmering, liquid, and he reached out without a thought to place a hand on her shoulder. He was just about to clear the room for her when she closed her eyes, cleared her throat, and stood. "I'd better go see where we are."

"Riz..."

"Later, Becca," the blonde replied faintly, exiting the cabin quickly with the brunette following her out an instant later.

"Shit," Havoc sighed, shaking his head and looking at the man lying in the center of the floor. He gestured between the General and the door through which Hawkeye had disappeared, adding, "Any kind of relationship there?"

Roy shrugged and shook his head. "I don't think so. They were just close...been working together for a long time." He did not enjoy having to lie to his friend, but Becca, Olivier Armstrong, Fuery, and himself were the only people in the world that knew Grumman was her grandfather. He would not betray that confidence.

The trio looked up when Hawkeye burst back into the cabin and glanced around their small group before hooking a thumb behind her. "Head back out on deck, please. We'll be there soon."

He got up to follow Havoc and Elicia but hung back before exiting the small room. He opened his mouth to speak, turning just in time to see her strip off her shirt, and what came out instead was, "So _that's_ the tattoo?" It was a salamander that ran along the bottom of her shoulder blade, with the tail curling up between the blade and spine. It was black, no other color was used, and there was a tribal-style pattern on the lizard's back.

She spun, eyes somewhat like daggers, and he thought he could discern where a few tears had trailed down her cheek. "How do you know about it?"

"I saw part of the tail in Paris...when you dropped the phone on the guy next to me in the bar." His eyes started to follow the curve of her neck downward when she glanced away and it fully dawned on him that she was standing in front of him in her bra. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and forced himself to respectfully keep his gaze trained on her face. She seemed to notice because a light blush appeared on her own face and neck before she lifted her shirt to hold it over her chest.

Hawkeye eyed him briefly before exhaling. "You realized that was me." Her posture relaxed minutely. "You never mentioned it. Why?"

He shrugged. "I saw no reason to."

She shifted, meeting his gaze but not holding it and playing with the fabric in her hands. "Thank you..." She paused. "For not saying anything. Not many people know about the tattoo."

"Of course." He looked around the cabin, unsure of what to say next, and then tilted his head toward the door that led topside. "I'll just...excuse me." He turned and left her to at least partially change out of the clothes inundated with her grandfather's blood, joining everyone else on the small deck of the speedboat. Trying to kick the image of a shirtless Hawkeye out of his head, he surveyed the water behind them, hoping that the men that attacked them did not happen to have a small fleet of speedboats at their disposal. At the sight of the team's weary and discouraged faces he thought, _We could really use a win_.

* * *

Once Mustang had closed the door Riza slipped on her extra shirt, still a bit off kilter after all that had happened. Her breaths were shaky and she tried to inhale deeply to calm herself, blinking away the pressure behind her eyes. She was by no means fine, but she did not get the luxury of falling apart until everyone else was safe. Meeting her reflections eye's in the mirror, she willed herself to believe that she could handle it.

When she felt more in control, she slung her bag over her shoulder and took a long look at her grandfather's body. With a little nod, because she could almost hear his voice in her head saying, 'Everything will be alright,' she left the cabin and moved to stand next to her friend.

She shared a meaningful look with Becca, who was no doubt hurting as well, and the brunette said, "We're nearly there." After a moment she added, "The radio's dead, by the way."

Riza nodded and lifted her bag, setting it on the dash. "I got the extra passports."

"I got the cash," Becca replied.

"And I got my laptop," Fuery added. "I started the destruct sequence for the computers as soon as I saw the alarm...they shouldn't get anything." He paused, and his eyes saddened. "Riza..."

She placed a hand on his upper arm. "I know, Kain." Turning to the rest of the team she said, "Everyone needs to hang back when we get there. We're visiting the Armstrongs, and I'll do the talking." After this mission, she would be surprised if she had any favors left to call in.

They continued on a short distance until a certain rocky outcropping on the coast became visible. She helped direct Rebecca exactly where to turn in order to avoid running aground and they traveled slowly into a camouflaged tunnel. It was damp and dark, save for the occasional light in the center of the ceiling which was just enough to avoid scraping against stone walls. Suffice it to say that the Armstrong family was absurdly wealthy and cherished their privacy.

Eventually, light could be seen pouring in from some larger space, and when they exited the tunnel they found themselves in an underground marina. Becca maintained a slow speed, keeping the wake to a minimum, and carefully pulled closer to a dock where men were already gathered, weapons in hand but not raised. She and her friend tied off the moorings and then Riza approached the rear of the boat. "I'm here to see Alex Armstrong."

"Who are you?" The man that must have been the head guard gestured around the group with his weapon.

"Just tell him that Reinita wants to see the Príncipe." She watched the guard, pushing back the memories triggered by using that codename since it came from the General's favorite nickname for her.

The guard considered them before reaching for a radio and saying a few quiet words. They did not have to wait long before Alex appeared and strolled down the quay toward them. He was practically a giant: taller than most professional basketball players and bald, with extremely muscular arms and legs. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was also one of the kindest people she had ever met.

"La Reinita!" He bellowed, grinning widely. "It's been a long time since I've heard that codename."

She gave him the best smile she could muster. "It's been a long time since I've visited in person."

He helped her out of the boat and then pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "We are always happy to see one of our best customers. Who are your friends?"

"You remember Freya and Sig, of course. And this is Tyr, Little One, Dagr, Ymir and Hel." She gestured toward Mustang, Elicia, Havoc, Breda, and Ross, respectively.

"Where's the old man? And Freyr?"

She looked away briefly. "We've suffered a few casualties...Odin is in the cabin."

"I see...We'll take care of everything. Please, follow me." While Alex gave his men various orders, Riza's group grabbed what effects they had and joined her on the dock. When they started moving, she fell into step next to Armstrong, who asked, "Would your visit have anything to do with the fire I've heard about up the coast?"

"Yes, we were attacked. I had to blow up the safe-house...and I _really_ liked that safe-house." She shot a glance back at the boat where the guards were removing the General's body. "We just need a place to stay for the night, some equipment, and a ride to the jet in the morning."

"I'm sure we can manage that. Just to get business out of the way, you'll be charged for weapons, but everything else is on the house."

"Thanks, Alex. Is Mr. A here?" Mr. A was Alex's father, whom she had known for years thanks to her grandfather, her work with her father, and Olivier.

"No, he's away on business. He'll be sorry he missed you." He paused, opening a door into the main house. "Have you talked to Liv?"

"Not yet." Their conversation stopped as Alex began doling out more orders to various members of his staff. He set them up with rooms, sent someone for clothes, organized the equipment they'd need, and had food prepared for them.

While he took care of everything, her group moved off to their rooms and, after giving him all necessary information, she went directly to her own. She stepped inside and let her bag fall off her shoulder, half-hearing the door shut behind her. Pacing dazedly into the room, she dropped to the floor at the foot of the bed and finally stopped holding back. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she drew her knees closer, lowering her forehead onto them, body wracked with sobs. She shook her head, unable to fully fathom that the last member of her family was dead. He was her grandfather, the General. He was one of the few constants in her at times chaotic life and now he was gone. She felt desolate, an all too familiar hollow sensation creeping into her chest. And she was furious for what had happened to her father, the Hughes family, Denny, Falman, and now the General.

She cried as she had not in years, her head shooting up when the door opened again, and she saw Becca lock it before walking toward her. Wordlessly, her friend sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she saw the brunette's face was tear stained as well. She grabbed the other woman's hand to give it a squeeze, and together they mourned.

* * *

A couple hours later, Riza found herself downstairs at the indoor firing range, doing her best to blow off some steam. After showering off all the dirt and blood she had contacted Olivier, eaten a little something, and then they all raised a glass in honor of Mrs. Hughes, Falman, and her grandfather. Those people deserved a more fitting memorial, which unfortunately was impossible at that time. From what she could tell, Gracia had been an incredible mother, as well as an all-around wonderful person. And Vato had been a great asset to his team, not simply because he had a genius level intellect and an eidetic memory. He had been a dependable and caring friend, as well as an excellent soldier and FBI agent. And the General had been one of the rare people she could always count on.

She fired off a few more rounds, thinking about how Gracia Hughes' and Falman's families would never know what really happened. Just like Denny's family, their loved ones would be fed a steady diet of lies to keep the truth carefully concealed. The bullshit stories of 'theft gone wrong' and 'gas main leak' ran through her mind. If the general populace knew everything she did, they would not be able to sleep at night, and would probably fire their government forthwith.

She performed a flawless tactical reload, letting the clip drop out and fluidly replacing it with another, less than a second passing before she continued squeezing the trigger. In all honesty, there had been few times that she'd regretted the life she chose, but at that moment she was finding it difficult to justify it. Her father had made her the perfect thief, and her government had turned her into the perfect soldier and spy. Now, because of the life she'd selected, her grandfather was dead. He would not have been in danger if not for her. He could have continued his rich, retired criminal's life off the grid, but he came to work with her.

Riza shook her head. With everything that had happened, she had not thought to check the _fucking_ _bracelet._ Reloading once more, she emptied another clip, letting her anxieties melt away in the familiarity of the action. Firearms were one of her specialties and target practice, even weapon maintenance, had become relaxing for her. Once finished she held down the button to bring the target back and, as she analyzed her shots, someone spoke from her right. "That's a nice-looking target."

She glanced behind her to see Mustang leaning against the partition. "Thanks. What are you doing down here?"

He gave a shrug, taking a few steps to stand next to her as she started to clean her weapon. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me either. Seems like that's been going around."

There was a brief silence while she worked and then he said, "I want you to know how much I appreciate you taking care of Elicia." He gave a light chuckle as he toyed with a corner of her target. "I feel like I'm always thanking you for something."

"Well, you can stop." Her response was sharp, as residual irritation abruptly welled within her, tired of gratitude when it felt as though she was letting people down right and left. His hand stilled momentarily and she took a breath. "Mustang, I..."

"It's okay." Suddenly, and to her great surprise, he pulled her into a hug and Riza stiffened, uncertain of how to react. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his body relax minutely once she responded. Softly, somewhere near her ear, she heard him say, "I'm sorry about your grandfather, Hawkeye."

"Thank you," she replied and stepped away, meeting his gaze momentarily since she was still trying to accustom herself to the unexpected embrace. She inhaled and let it out slowly before offering a quiet, verbal olive branch after the edge in her voice earlier. "We wouldn't have made it to the boat without your help."

"You're welcome." Out of the corner of her eye she saw him lean back and hold up her target, evidently wanting something to do with his hands. She heard him hesitate and then say, "Elicia told me about your mother."

Riza's face softened and she watched him for a few seconds. "I wondered if she might." A little smile curved her lips in spite of everything. "I did know about your parents...I guess it's only fair." She held his gaze, and realized she liked his eyes. They were dark, profound, exceedingly kind and, despite being accompanied by black hair, the effect was not overpowering.

He gave her a small grin in return. "If we're going for fair, I think you still owe me some secrets. I'll let you know how many."

"You do that." It occurred to her that he, Olivier and Becca were now the three people in the world that knew the most about her. When she sat down across from him at that restaurant, she never anticipated that she would end up telling him about the General or Alya. She never imagined that he would find out his old partner was her father, and she certainly assumed her tattoo would remain a secret. She had told him some things at the beginning to inspire trust, but now they almost acted like _friends_. "You know, Mustang...people didn't shoot at me this much before I met you."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess I have that effect on people." After a brief hesitation he added, "So, is there any special meaning behind the tattoo?"

"Yes and no." She finished reassembling her weapon and turned to face him, leaning back against the other partition. "Do _you_ have any?"

He smirked. "I might." He looked at her, as if waiting for her to say something, and then continued. "You're really just going to gloss over the whole 'yes and no' thing?"

"For now." Riza holstered the pistol and started toward the stairs, feeling much more relaxed than before and thinking she should sleep. Talking to him had eased her mind and, as they climbed the staircase, she suddenly recalled the way he'd looked at her earlier, after she'd removed her shirt. She felt her cheeks warm again and laughed inwardly at herself. When they reached the hallway where their rooms were located, she stopped at her door and glanced at him, softly saying, "Thanks, for this."

Mustang turned where he stood a few steps away and nodded in reply, the corners of his lips quirking upward. He started to move away again and added, "Night, Hawkeye," before disappearing into his room. She entered her own and set her holster on the bedside table, falling into bed and surrendering to sleep almost immediately.

* * *

 **AN:** Hopefully this helped make up for the giant break between posts and the evil cliffhanger. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)


	14. The Three Birds Job

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! I hope you're having a good day, and I am really trying to get back on a regular posting schedule. I promise! Responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this post.

Also, a little character/codename reminder: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

 **The Three Birds Job**

It was far too few restful hours after bullets had flown past their heads and the base in Virginia had become a spectacular pile of embers that Roy stood with Hawkeye atop an apartment building in downtown Paris. With a deep breath he took a few steps and stretched, fighting off his lethargy and taking a look over the building's edge. His sleep at the Armstrong compound had been sound but short-lived and he, along with the rest of the team, had climbed wearily onto the jet early the next morning. At that point, it was merely force of habit and muscle memory that kept one foot moving in front of the other. It seemed they were always on the move, with hardly a moment's rest, and he decided that, whenever this mission ended, he would set aside an entire week just for sleep.

Immediately following their arrival, they had unloaded the equipment at the safe house and then spent the remainder of the day making the necessary preparations for a plan they had concocted during that flight. If it went well, they could kill three birds with one stone: 1. Help Director Armstrong help Interpol shut down a human trafficking ring for which Maurice laundered money, 2. Learn the location for the Mansouran Exchange, 3. Team Morale. This would be the combined team's first official operation and, after what felt like an avalanche of horrible luck and losses, they needed a good day.

He shot another look over the city of Paris at night, and the Eiffel Tower drew his attention, lit up like a beacon in the distance. Then, checking his watch, he crouched next to her to help check the lengths of rope for weaknesses and fraying. "The last time I was here, this pain-in-the-ass thief kinda ruined my night. Would you know anything about that?"

She smirked at him. "Who on Earth would do such a thing?"

"I'm not sure...but it really wasn't nice."

"Worse than the guy that tried to strangle you the next day?" She anchored the cables to a metal bar running along the exterior of the enclosed stairwell that accessed the roof, testing them with her weight.

"Somebody tried to _strangle_ you...Tyr?" Elicia's concerned voice came over the comm, including his codename as an after thought since she was unaccustomed to the practice.

"Keyword is _tried_ , Little One," he chuckled. "Lucky for me, a friend was nearby and intervened." He stepped behind Hawkeye, gripped the rope, and added his weight since, in an emergency, the equipment may have to support both of them.

"Was that friend a pain-in-the-ass thief, perhaps?" the blonde asked teasingly, letting the rope fall and checking her harness. Then she said, "Status, Freya?"

"Nearly there," Catalina replied with some amount of irritation as she and Havoc made their way to the security office of another building close to a location Maurice used for 'business.' "For some reason, dipshit here just _had_ to drive, and let's just say he had no clue what he was doing."

"I've driven before, thank you," came Havoc's frustration-tinged answer. "It's not rocket science."

"Can we get back to the strangling thing? Cause that sounds like a big deal," Elicia interjected again.

"Don't worry, Little One. I'm fine," Roy quickly interrupted. "Hey, do you remember that rule we discussed?"

"I know, Tyr...I promise to maintain radio silence once the target is en route from location charlie to delta."

He shared a look with Hawkeye, brow furrowed, tempted to comment on his niece's oddly agent-like response. Then, from her position tailing Maurice with Breda, Maria said, "As if on cue, target is on the move."

"Okay, Freya, Dagr...you have two minutes."

"Copy, Loki."

"I've got the frequency for his security's comms...I've confirmed he's heading to location delta," Breda informed them.

"Thanks, Ymir," Roy replied.

"Sig, tell Ice Queen to give us twenty and she'll have everything she needs. You'll quarterback," Hawkeye said, attaching her harness to the ropes and positioning herself near the edge of the building.

"Copy that, Ice Queen is standing by," Fuery responded after a few seconds of silence.

"In position at location beta," came Catalina's voice. "I am really going to enjoy this...it feels great to be stealing something again. I'm all giddy."

"And we're on, kids," Fuery said, starting them off.

At that signal Roy carefully climbed out over the ledge, and promptly made the mistake of looking down. "Shit...that's far. No falling, Loki."

"Excellent advice, Tyr. I had forgotten about _gravity_ ," Hawkeye wryly rejoined.

Amused, he looked over at her. "Does the amazing Loki not like heights?"

Her only response was to meet his gaze, and they simultaneously jumped over the side, both keeping pressure on the rig to make sure they did not descend too swiftly and lose control. His adrenaline started to flow and he stopped listening to the ongoing conversation briefly, focusing on his speed and the distance to the rapidly approaching terrace. The rope zipped through the carabiner and he periodically gauged her progress, keeping even with her.

They started to slow and she lowered herself next to a camera, affixing a device to it that would loop the footage so the terrace would continue to appear empty. Maurice's security system was actually quite sophisticated and could only be accessed from certain terminals within the building. Since they'd not had time to visit earlier to place a drive that would allow Fuery complete access, they had to make due with alternatives.

He glanced at the camera at the other end of the terrace and said, "Ten seconds." The reached the cement floor and hastily removed their harnesses, each giving their rope a powerful tug to activate the winches set up on the roof. He was silently counting down and pulled her toward him, hiding behind a large, ornate planter before the other surveillance camera caught them.

Hawkeye met his eye briefly and he dropped his arm when he realized it was still around her back. She peeked at the camera and, when she nodded, they raced toward the other end of the terrace. Roy placed another device on that camera's side while she connected another electronic to the keypad via two wires. She pressed a button on the small, phone-like gadget and the screen lit up, numbers scrolling across it as it determined the correct code. "The otter's hitched, Sig."

"Okay, I'm getting some basic system data, Loki," Fuery told them. "I'm not seeing any alarms...once you're inside, you should be clear."

"Copy," Roy replied, taking the otter when she handed to him. She picked the lock and he entered the code before she opened the door, letting them into the kitchen. He disconnected the device from the keypad and then his partner for the evening pointed him toward the office. Moving behind the desk, he inserted a USB into one of the computer's ports to duplicate it's contents. "Drive's in, Sig."

"Copy, Tyr."

"...no fucking way, it's not possible," Breda was in the middle of saying. "Target is entering delta."

"It's not just possible, crazy man, it's the truth," Catalina replied. "You asked about my craziest job and I'm telling you...I sold the mark Mount Rushmore. This guy was obsessed with US presidents, and he owned all kinds of random crap...like George Washington's left boot, and Thomas Jefferson's dental floss."

"You do know they didn't have dental floss back then, right?" Ross asked.

"Maybe they used horse hair, who knows?...Anyway, we needed him to make a large money transfer so we could find the funds he'd stolen. Long story short, he had this beautiful moment where he thought he owned a mountain, and then he went to prison," Catalina said. "...We're in, by the way. Pulling all security footage backlogs and clearing the hard-drives."

"Data download complete, Tyr," Fuery cut in.

"Copy." He left the office and strode down the hall, stepping into the bedroom and pausing a second later at Hawkeye's irked expression as she crouched next to the open floor safe. He let out a wry chuckle, wondering why nothing ever went to plan. "What is it?"

"It's empty." There was a note of astonishment in her voice.

"Excuse me, Loki?" Catalina instantly replied. "Come again?"

"It's empty...He got smart." She shut the safe firmly and secured it, moving to join him at the doorway. Her exhale was sharp, and she was clearly analyzing their options when she added, "And we don't have time for a thorough search."

Roy met her gaze, watching her thoughtfully, and then gave a satisfied smile when he remembered something he'd noticed when they first walked in. "We might not be in trouble yet." She followed him, and her raised eyebrows silently asked what he was talking about. "I smelled fresh paint in the kitchen, but it was faint...and I noticed he had several large deliveries to this address about a month ago." When they were back in that room he looked toward its far end, near the formal dining area, and tilted his head. His eyes moved from one wall to the other and, unless he was mistaken, the white paint on one looked just barely brighter than the others. He moved closer and found that the kitchen had been extended to include a wine cellar which, not surprisingly, appeared brand new. Taking a look at the small addition, he then walked through the dining room to the hallway and back again. "If I'm seeing this right, there are a few feet unaccounted for between the far side of the cellar and the hallway beyond. I'd say something's there."

"Nice catch, Tyr." She walked through the glass door, examining the walls, sizing up the wooden wine racks, lightly touching random bottles. "I recognize this style...there's usually a hidden switch or button that will reveal the safe." Before she even finished speaking she paused in her search and carefully grasped a bottle of Pétrus, twisting it to the right and pushing it further into the rack until they heard a small click. At his questioning glance she said, "Maurice's first girlfriend was from Serbia...her name was Petra. I hear she's the one that got away."

At the end of the room directly across from the door the wall split in two and opened almost like a curtain to reveal a four foot tall safe. "A little cheesy to hide it in the wine cellar, if you ask me."

She smiled in response as she ran her hands along the edges of the safe, over the front door. "It's not _that_ bad." She positioned her ear near the safe-door, just left of center at the same height as the handle, and turned the dial with her right hand. Her eyes were mostly closed as she concentrated on isolating the correct notches within the lock.

"Yeah, kinda cheesy, but at the same time cool in a James Bond sorta way," Havoc commented.

"I think I'll call it _clandestine-_ _chic_ ," Breda supplied.

"I refuse to acknowledge that name, cause I'm pretty sure you didn't invent this shit," Havoc retorted.

"Give us radio silence, guys," Roy told them, ending the banter before it could turn into full-blown bickering.

She remained quiet, displaying no reaction to the comments, and he thought her focus was impressive. Her hair was pulled back, her fingers almost danced over the dial, and then she was turning the handle. "Safe's popped." Hawkeye smiled again when she pulled open the door and started to remove money, ledgers, flash drives, jewelry, and other valuables. "I don't think he'll be needing these anymore." Roy took the bag from his shoulders and filled it with everything she handed to him. When they were done, she closed and locked the vault while he secured the bag and slung it over a shoulder. She then returned to the bottle of Petrus, reversing the previous process to once more hide the safe, and they strode toward the elevator in the center of the apartment.

While they waited for the car to arrive, Roy took a small signal jammer from his pocket and activated it as a precaution to interfere with any cameras that might be present. "We're heading down, Sig."

"Copy."

They stepped inside and immediately set their bags on the floor, beginning a rapid costume change in order to blend in at Maurice's club, which was their next stop. He stripped off his jacket, followed by his shirt, and then started to reach for the bag, stopping midway when she pulled her own top over her head. He watched the fabric slide up from her hips, over her waist, and off her shoulders as if in slow-motion. She freed her hair, tousling it with one hand before she saw him and froze, her lips falling open a touch and eyes starting to rove downward over his chest. The soft chime of the elevator passing another floor prompted them to break the eye contact and he opened the bag, handing her the clothes she'd packed. At the next chime they finished changing, quickly shoving their divested garments in the backpack.

Hawkeye slipped on a pair of heels and they each grabbed a bag just in time for the doors to slide open. They strode casually out and she softly said, "At the lobby, Hel."

"Copy...I'm pulling up out front now," Ross responded. Roy opened the front door of the building, they exited onto the sidewalk, and a few steps later they were in the back of a black sedan with tinted windows. Maria drove away from the curb and said, "On our way to location alpha."

"Freya and I are out...moving to the rendezvous," Havoc informed them. "And now that we have a little down time, it's Loki's turn for a craziest job story."

Hawkeye let out a slow, thoughtful breath and tossed her backpack to the floor. "It was intermission at the Brazilian opera...there was this amazing display of heirlooms dating back to colonial times. There were swords, paintings, antique tea sets, furniture...pretty much anything you could imagine." She paused briefly, glancing out the window. "One of the features that evening was the Duchess of Caxias' necklace, given to her by the Brazilian royal family."

"Mmm...it was totally gorgeous," Catalina commented.

"Diamonds, intricate metal work, surprisingly not gaudy..." Hawkeye's smirk appeared again. "I took it from the glass case in the center of the room and wore it out of the building."

"I'm borrowing Ymir's line...no fucking way," Ross said, shaking her head. "There's no way anyone could have pulled that off in an opera house full of people with no one seeing."

Roy continued to watch her, finding he rather enjoyed that smile of hers. "I have a feeling it's very possible."

"Just, _how_?" Maria asked, voice full of dubiety.

"Well, there was an electrical surge involved." She gave a little shrug and added, "And I wore it out because I had nowhere else to put it...I was wearing this great dress and it happened to cover the necklace completely."

"I can believe it," Breda announced. "We know she's got a light touch...Let's not forget she planted that bug on Tyr and he had no idea."

"I would just like to point out..." Havoc jumped in, apparently coming to his rescue. "...that my friend Tyr here was a little distracted. See, he'd recently been dumped by one of the hottest girlfriends he ever had. I mean, compared to _my_ past girlfriends she was like a six, but for him she was a solid 8.5."

"Hey, Dagr...screw you," Roy chuckled.

"I'm just calling it like I saw it...If I'm not honest, how will you learn?"

"Learn what?"

"I'm helping you reach your full potential. It's what friends are for."

"Location alpha," Ross announced, drawing the vehicle up to the curb.

"Okay, all comms but Loki and Tyr will be dropped, and I'll make sure Ice Queen receives the intel and the backlogs," Fuery told them.

"Copy, Sig," Hawkeye replied as they exited the car, leaving the bags behind. "We'll exfil on our own later."

The bass track from the music sounded like a muffled thud and nearly all the space in front of the club was jammed with people waiting to get in the door, with two gigantic bouncers standing guard. This particular establishment was in a newly renovated building from the twenties, with elegant archways that sported a sign which said 'Le Frère.' Maurice was the owner, and preferred to operate from his second-floor office within the club, finalizing any number of shady deals per night. Ross drove away and several clicks were heard as their earpieces were disconnected from the rest of the team. She gave him an amused look. "I wasn't sure how much more of Dagr's lecture I could take."

"Tell me about it," he said, flashing a VIP card to the bouncer as they walked by, permitting them immediate entry into the building. He leaned closer to add, "The best part is he honestly thinks he's helping me." She led him through the crowd in the direction of the bar along the far wall. The club was dimly lit and spotlights swept over the dance floor in such a way that he would not be surprised if they caused seizures. He managed to find a sliver of standing room at the bar, raised a hand to get the bartender's attention and then said, "I'll wait for you here...keep an eye on the exits." She gave him a small nod, disappeared into the crush of people, and he had the thought that it would be nice to visit Paris _without_ having to work.

He ordered a beer and watched the doors, catching sight of her in the mirror behind the bar as she ascended to the second floor. She showed the VIP card to another bouncer, stepped into that part of the club, and from that point on he could only listen to her progress. He glanced at the entrance again, the exit to his left, the door to the kitchen, and kept an eye on the movement within the building. He sipped his beer when it arrived, hearing her occasional, soft-spoken 'pardon' as she moved through the gathering of partiers.

Suddenly, the music and chatter died away from her end of the comms, from which he assumed she had entered the target's soundproofed office. She confirmed that a second later by saying, "It's time we talked, Maurice. You owe me, and I... _Barry_?"

Roy's spine automatically stiffened a fraction, and as his eyes again checked his surroundings he was on high alert. Lifting his beer to cover his mouth, he said, "Loki?" The pistol at his back was itching to be drawn. He did not trust the serial killer, despite his strange relationship with Hawkeye and his unexpected loyalty to her. Something about a person that enjoyed slicing people apart did not sit well with him, to say the least. Roy could not claim that many people unsettled him, but Barry the Chopper gave him the creeps.

"Hold, Tyr. Just a friend unexpectedly in town...What are you doing here, Bare?"

Tuning out the EDM blaring around him, he could hear the lunatic's response: "I know you said you didn't need my help, my darling, but I was around and thought I'd lend a hand. I just love Paris." As usual, Barry's voice was on the unsettling side of gleeful, and the way he addressed Hawkeye was disconcerting. Ragged breathing was audible in the background, and Roy supposed it belonged to the unfortunate Maurice, who was likely bloody and in a great deal of pain.

Rather than argue, which would have been fruitless, Hawkeye said, "I appreciate the thought." Based on the tone of her voice, it sounded like she wanted to add, 'I guess.'

"Now, please don't be angry. I know you dislike surprises, but you do have a tendency to hog all the fun. _And_ I believe this little piece of shit ratted you out the last time you were in Paris." Roy raised his eyebrows at that, unaware their information had come from Maurice, and sipped the beer again, using the chance to survey the club once more.

"One of his employees," his partner replied. "Anything useful for me?"

His eyes searched the mirror behind the bar as he waited for the answer, and he may very well have been holding his breath. That information would give them everything they needed to attend the exchange and get a step closer to Kimblee. Without this bit of intel, they would have to completely reevaluate and find another way to locate the arms dealer and the weapon, as well as identify the potential buyers. He was still awaiting a response when abruptly, from his right came a confused, surprised, and alarmingly close voice saying, " _Roy_?"

Brows drawn together he looked in that direction, eyes widening for a split-second when he recognized the speaker, and his jaw clenched at his own stupidity. He had been so focused on listening in on the conversation and observing the club that he'd overlooked his immediate surroundings. A rookie mistake. Recovering quickly, he plastered a grin on his face and said, " _Katie_...Hey, how are you?" As he spoke, he hoped Hawkeye would return soon, and his mind considered various ideas in case she did not. He was no slouch at thinking on his feet, but another person was often useful when explaining one's presence somewhere.

As usual, Katie's brown hair was immaculate and her hands manicured, with every piece of clothing arranged just so. It was one thing that had always bothered him about her: she was always so concerned about her appearance, was never just herself. Her large, hazel eyes were watching him like he was a crazy person and she took a step closer, lowering her voice. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Adopting an air of relaxed apathy, he shrugged and decided to modify the truth. "I'm on vacation...I took some time off work and decided to take a trip."

"And you just had to come here, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about? Paris?" He shrugged again, slightly perplexed, looking around and trying to figure out why he was not supposed to be there. "Why not?"

Her eyes grew wide and her mouth mouth dropped open, one hand going to her hip. "Oh my god...did you come here to _find_ me?"

He had to fight the impulse to roll his eyes. "Seriously...what the hell are you talking about?" He thought back to their time together, beginning to vaguely remember mention of a trip to Paris that she had planned with some friends from college. Through the earpiece Hawkeye softly told him, "On my way."

"Holy shit, you did." She shook her head, demeanor somewhat haughty. "You _knew_ about this trip...I've had it planned for months. And you never take time off work, but I'm supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?"

He nodded, letting out a completely real chuckle. "It is, actually."

"Then why are you here?" Her head cocked to the side, evidently thinking she'd already figured it out.

He sipped his beer. "I'm traveling with a friend. We decided to stop in Paris on the way to Venice."

"Right, and I'm here with my new boyfriend Antonio Banderas." Her laugh was skeptical as she crossed her arms. "So where is this _friend_?"

"The ladies' room." He knew she would interpret it as an excuse, and with Katie there was not much he could do about that. He just needed to get the hell out of the club and make sure to avoid her while they were in Paris.

The brunette laughed again. "The ladies' room? Really? God, you're pathetic, Roy. The least you could do is admit why you're really here." She shrugged a shoulder, becoming more self-satisfied by the moment. She was enjoying humiliating him, and he wondered how he'd missed that facet of her personality. "I'm there, and you're not invested...I was basically invisible to you. Then I break up with you, and you stalk me to France? It's over, Roy." Conveniently, she seemed to have forgotten telling him that the sex with him was great and that she thought he was a decent guy. Interesting.

While his unexpected visitor spoke, Hawkeye commented, "Your ex-girlfriend sounds kind of bitchy, Tyr," and he had keep from laughing. Then she added, "I have an idea. When I get there, be thrilled to see me."

"Believe me, that's fine," he replied to Katie, gesturing between them with his bottle of beer. "This is a giant misunderstanding."

"Okay, whatever you say, Roy. Just lea..."

Katie was mid-sentence when he saw Hawkeye moving toward him along the bar, and he did not hear the rest of his ex-girlfriend's speech. Her brown eyes were warm, her hair practically shimmered, and the curve of her lips was half-smirk, half-smile. It suited her perfectly. He grinned as he watched her, gaze moving along her lithe frame to her slender legs. She noticed and looked away briefly, smile widening as she ran a hand through her hair, and it occurred to him that she was momentarily self-conscious. Once closer she said, " _Hey_ ," in the same way a woman might greet the boyfriend she'd just found in a packed bar.

He still grinned. "Hey."

Then her warm lips were on his own and heat seemed to radiate from every part of him that touched her. He could smell the lavender in her hair, and felt her fingers lightly graze his side. She smiled against his mouth, already starting to move away and, just for a second, he decided to ignore the mission and his ex-girlfriend and everything else. Placing a hand behind her neck he gently closed the distance between them and kissed her again. Her left hand tightened its grip on his right arm, which he wound around her while the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Then, as the kiss deepened and her right hand clutched his hip, pulling him closer, he recognized that Hawkeye was responding in kind.

He stopped begrudgingly, aware there was still a situation that needed resolved. Tracing his thumb over her neck, he caught her somewhat stunned gaze, her lips still parted slightly. Then the look was gone and she was waving a hand, grabbing his beer, and taking a sip. "I'm sorry it took so long...there was a line in the bathroom." She handed his beverage back to him, smirked, and added, " _You_ forgot to order another drink for me, didn't you?"

He shrugged a shoulder, returning the smile and trying to calm his brisk heart rate. "Guilty...but I'll find a way to make it up to you." He gestured with the bottle. "I actually ran into an old friend...Len, this is Katie. Katie...Len."

Hawkeye spun, a friendly grin on her face. "And I just interrupted...how nice of me." She offered her hand to shake. "It's great to meet you, Katie."

The other woman's eyebrows were still raised, and she watched them with a mixture of uncertainty and shock. Slowly holding out her hand, she replied, "Hi...it's, ah, nice to meet you, Len." The last word was said with the hint of a verbal question mark, as though she thought the name odd.

The blonde chuckled. "It's Leanna, actually, but he likes to call me Len."

He leaned on the bar. "Well, I did come up with the nickname...there are just way too many syllables in Leanna."

She elbowed him playfully. "There are only three, _lazy_ , and you're weirdly proud of yourself for this."

"What can I say? When I'm good, I'm good."

Hawkeye glanced over at him, reaching for her phone. "I already called to have the plane prepped...I'll just call the pilot and let him know we'll be a little later."

She started to move away, as if to go make the call, and he placed a hand on her arm to stop her. "That's okay, babe, I'm sure Katie wants to get back to her friends." He drained his beer and set it down, giving the brunette a polite smile. "It was really nice seeing you. Let me know when you're back in the states...we can grab a coffee or something."

"Yeah, sure." The brunette's voice was quiet, still caught off guard.

They navigated in the direction of the door and he placed a hand at Hawkeye's back, letting a couple fingers graze her lower back when her top moved. Her skin was warm and his fingertip ran over what felt suspiciously like a scar. The contact sent a jolt winding up his arm, and he liked to think she tensed, but he could not be sure.

Once they were finally outside he took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air, which contrasted starkly with the somewhat stuffy air of the club. Removing his earpiece, he placed it in a pocket and saw her do the same to his left. They walked in silence for a couple blocks, and he was still more than a little amped from the whole experience. The familiarity they had fallen into had seemed oddly natural for two people that were more like adversaries all too recently. And it was so _easy_.

Then there was the obvious issue of the kiss that he had enjoyed more than he likely should have. He knew that, at least initially, it was intended to throw Katie off balance and avoid any further tirades. After that he simply reacted, for once not thinking about the repercussions, or the fact that they were on a mission. And now his head was swimming with the image of her changing in the elevator, how her body felt flush with his.

They walked on for a while, and then her quiet voice broke the silence. "The things she was saying...she's wrong, you know. You are in no way pathetic."

He gave a small nod, his ruminations having progressed to her returning his kiss, and then her miniscule hesitation when it ended. It was one of those situations in which, with the intensity of the moment gone, he began to question what he saw. "Thanks, but she wasn't completely off. I wasn't really present in the relationship, and she deserved better than that. She has the right to be a little salty." It was discouraging that she thought any distraction on his part stemmed specifically from running into Katie, and not some other portion of the interaction. It implied that the exchange had not affected her, which could be the truth, or an intentional misrepresentation on her part.

"That may be, but she wanted you to have followed her. That's why she reacted with indignation...to hide that she still wants you." She paused. "The way she watched us after...well, that wasn't the face of a woman that didn't care." Hawkeye stopped in her tracks, pulling out her phone to send a message before linking her arm with his and leading him down an alley to the left. "Come on...I want you to try something."

He smiled curiously, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." They continued several blocks until she took them down another winding alleyway which led to a quiet street. Though it was late, there was still some foot traffic and, as they strolled, he took in all the old buildings and stone-paved walkways. Though the busy row of clubs and bars they had left was not extremely far, it seemed like they had entered another world. Small cafes and restaurants were serving late-night customers, the tables arranged out on the sidewalk.

She led them to a hole-in-the-wall business with a man sitting out front smoking a cigarette and simply said, "Deux, s'il vous plaît." Wordlessly he nodded and then stood, returning several minutes later with two small bundles which he exchanged for the money Hawkeye handed him. When Roy looked at her quizzically, she started to unwrap hers as they walked. "The best crêpes in Paris. Hands down."

He opened his own packet, somewhat skeptically. "That's quite a claim." Then he tasted it, and his eyebrows rose as he caught her gaze. "Wow." It was incredibly light, airy, and treated simply with butter and sugar.

"Right?"

"This is delicious." They continued along the sidewalk and after a short time entered a park, following a couple paths in silence before taking a seat on a bench next to a moderately sized pond. A relaxed look had appeared on her face, and he leaned back in his seat, feeling contemplative. "Not many people know this, but my parents met in France."

She shifted in her seat, sitting sideways to face him, her leg ending up next to his. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Dad was twenty-four and in Paris for a summer semester...Mom was twenty and working in a restaurant to make enough money to move on to Venice."

"The story you told Katie."

"Every lie has a kernel of truth, right?" He rotated toward her, crossing one ankle over the other knee. "Dad always said that he first saw her one night while she walked home from work...the moonlight glinted off her hair and it caught his eye. He went right over and asked her out." They again fell quiet, and for him it was a mildly uncomfortable one since he had shared such a personal story on impulse. He was just about to say something else when she spoke.

"My parents met in New Orleans, and my Dad liked to play guitar, as I'm sure you know. He was having a jam session with a couple friends in a park and my Mom walked by on her way to my grandma's place." She toyed with the wax paper around her crêpe. "He played at that park every day for three weeks until he saw her again."

He gave a quiet chuckle. "It's hard to imagine Berthold being a romantic."

"He only ever was with her." She took a breath, as if unsure of what she was about to say. "I know you're curious about him. You were close to him, and then found out about his whole other life he had. So...you can ask about him, if you want."

"Thanks." Roy thought about that for a second, amazed and also pleased that she would be so open with him about her father. "He was my mentor and a close friend...it made me question whether I ever really knew him."

She nodded. "You did."

"How do you know?"

"Because of the way he talked about you."

He paused, considering that answer and not entirely sure how Berthold would have spoken about him. Deciding to take a calculated risk, he said, "When did you last see him before he died?"

She was quiet for nearly a full minute, and he got the sense she was debating on whether or not to answer the question. Then, she checked her phone again and tossed the waxed paper in the trash, standing and offering a hand to pull him up. "It's time for the victory part. Fuery's got a backdoor into Interpol's system, so we can watch the raids and see that human trafficking ring crumble." With a chuckle she added, "Becca's making popcorn." He nodded and joined her, figuring that the question must have pushed past the boundaries of their developing friendship. He understood, aware that the question was extremely personal and that she liked to play things close to the vest. They started the trek back to the safe house and she said, "I saw him three weeks before he died...at his vacation home in Portugal. We were meeting there again for his birthday but, obviously, he never showed."

"I always wondered where he disappeared to for his birthdays. He'd leave his phone in his desk at work...It really pissed off the higher-ups." He paused and then added, "I have to ask...how did you know so much about Maurice's safe?"

"My Dad used a similar design for his safe at our place in Valencia."

"Valencia, Paris, Virginia, Portugal...How many 'places' do you have?"

She chuckled. "Not as many as it sounds...we just moved around a lot." After a beat she said, "We're going to Munich, by the way. And now that we have the city, we can decode the date and time, and pull up any events in the area matching those criteria."

"Do I have time to sleep before we leave?" Though the day had been extremely productive and successful, he was certain he could fall asleep on the sidewalk if he wanted.

Hawkeye gave him an amused smile. "Haven't you every heard the saying, 'you can sleep when you're dead?'"

"I prefer to sleep when I'm alive, that way I can truly appreciate it." He heard her laugh, and he wanted to delay their arrival at the house, enjoying how relaxed they could be in each other's company. It was difficult to notice at times but, when they were with the team, there was always a part of her that closed itself off. He could not fault her for it, seeing as he did the same, but it generally made it difficult to become better acquainted with others. They were beginning to drop their guard around each other and, while it was gratifying, it was also unnerving.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

hermit crab: Thank you! I'm glad to hear you liked those interactions, they were so fun to write. I hope this chapter was a little happier :)

Guest (Sep 17): Thank you! It's great to hear you're enjoying it :)


	15. The Mansouran Exchange

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello! Responses to guest reviews for the last chapter can be found at the end of this post.

Also, a little character/codename reminder: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen

And now, for the long-awaited Exchange. I hope you like the chapter!

* * *

 **The Mansouran Exchange**

The days following Riza's unexpected chat with Barry, and the run-in with Katie, included a nearly eight-hour drive from Paris and the opening of the safe house in Munich, among other things. They had decoded the text that had originally clued them into the exchange and, thus, the remainder of the time had been spent waiting, resting, and preparing. They thoroughly surveilled the Munich Residenz, a former royal palace that had at one tie been the seat of the German government. A benefit would be taking place at the Antiquarium within the Residenz, and Kimblee was using that event as a smoke screen for his own.

And yet, despite everything going on, the interaction at the club with Mustang was never far from her mind. She seemed to smile frequently around him, her heart rate would occasionally spike, and she kept glancing at him like teenager. While before she recognized that he was a good-looking guy, now she kept contemplating his perpetual smirk, angular jaw, and broad shoulders. It was ridiculous, and she felt a little like an idiot.

In fact, Mustang sans shirt in the elevator repeatedly flashed in her mind, and she easily recalled his athletic frame. She smiled at the memory of his fingers gently brushing over her cheek, pushing hair out of her face. It was during their flight to Paris, before the meeting with Maurice, her head laid on a pillow which rested on his lap. He'd thought she was sleeping. If not for the situation in the club, she might have been able to keep all those thoughts in the back of her mind. At least for the duration of the mission.

That kiss in the club was just supposed to be a quick thing, and then his arm was around her, his body was _right there_ , and she was suddenly a little lost. She recovered, of course, but there was a second where she could do no more than watch him, somewhat amazed by how _good_ it was. Then they left, and the heat from his hand flowed through her top, his fingers grazing the skin just above her jeans. In that moment, with every nerve in her body on high alert, it was all she could think about. She tried to tell herself it was nothing but, since just thinking about it caused her to shudder, she remained unconvinced.

In truth, lately she had been trying to decide if she should be concerned about how well they were all getting to know each other. On the one hand, becoming familiar meant they worked together effectively, but on the other such attachments complicated things. Her job and her life, along with those of Becca and Fuery, depended on their ability to maintain multiple covers and aliases. They could not be seen openly spending time with FBI agents as that could jeopardize the lives of everyone involved. Riza and her team had completed many missions, and one unquestionable common denominator was that they disappeared when it was over. If this ended like any other mission, she, Becca, and Fuery would never see Mustang, his niece, or his team again. She already knew she was not thrilled about that prospect.

However, she also had to consider the fact that her team had lost two irreplaceable members, which placed their future in question. For better or worse, this mission had already changed their lives, and would likely continue to do so. She had no idea what would happen after they completed the operation, and that was equal parts liberating and terrifying. This was the only life she knew.

She looked up sharply when Becca appeared in the doorway. "Hey, sexy lady. Do you have the medallion?"

"Yeah," she replied, taking it from a drawer. "And I'm glad you're here." Picking up two shot glasses, she held one out to her friend. "We are in Munich, and we're about to start an important mission...you know what that means."

"Yes! It's time for pre-op tequila." She contemplated the liquor with a nod. "This is a good idea...we did this before our last three Munich jobs and they were awesome."

"And I don't want to ruin the streak."

They clinked glasses, downed the tequila, and Becca moved back to her room with a wave. "I need to finish getting ready...I'll see you downstairs."

The door closed and she watched her reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath and attempting to push everything but the mission aside. Warmth radiated through her thanks to the drink and she shut her eyes momentarily, letting her body relax, clearing her mind. She bent forward to adjust a strap on her shoe and rose, half-turning to check her reflection and make sure the one-shoulder, deep charcoal affair would hide the tattoo. It stopped just above the knee and she lowered a hand to the small slit there, adjusting her thigh holster to keep it invisible. There was a knock and she said, "It's open," thinking her friend had come back for something. She partially turned again, playing with the neckline. "Hey, Bec...can you see the salamander tattoo?"

The door clicked shut and a much deeper voice replied, "Not from where I stand." Mustang appeared behind her in the mirror, and then she inhaled quickly when his fingers grazed her shoulder blade, pulling the fabric aside to check the distance between the edge of the dress and the tattoo. "It should stay covered...you have room to spare."

"Thanks." Ignoring the lingering sensation of his skin on hers she faced him, looking him over as she did. _Shit, the man could wear a suit._ "Looking sharp, Mustang. You clean up well." She reached up to fix a mostly unnoticeable imperfection in the knot of his tie.

He chuckled. "Thanks." His voice softened a fraction, his gaze moving over her face then down to her dress. "You are stunning." She smiled and he held up a small box, adding, "I brought your comm for the evening. Our computer guys did something special...I'm not sure what. They lost me when they started talking about transducers and filters and time discretization."

"Signals processing isn't your strong suit?"

"I like to think I could understand it if I wanted to." He took them both out of the box, handing one to her and placing the other in his own ear.

She situated hers comfortably just in time to hear Havoc: "Say, Freya, you think you might be ready soon? I'm not sure if you know this, but we're kinda on a timetable here."

Riza shared an amused look with Mustang before leading the way out of the room and down to the kitchen as Becca responded, "You can't rush perfection, asshole."

"All I'm saying is I better see some phenomenal shit when you come downstairs." Havoc gave them a wave as they entered the kitchen together while Elicia watched them, a look on her face that sixteen-year-olds have when they think they know everything.

"Hey, Little One," Rebecca said. "Do me a favor and punch Dagr in the nuts."

Mustang grabbed his pistol from the table, and pointed at his giggling niece with the clip. "Don't do that, kiddo...it's really not nice."

"Okay, Tyr," Elicia began. "Why does everybody get a cool codename but I'm just _Little One_?"

"Cause that's what you are." Becca passed into the kitchen, silk whispering, and put an arm around the teen's shoulders. "Our Little One. Sorry kid, but you just unofficially acquired a bunch of older siblings. And nobody fucks with our little sister." Letting go, she picked up her own weapon from the table before continuing. "We're like a streak of tigers, protecting the cub, and Assface is like the evil lion nemesis we have to hunt down."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Havoc jumped in. "Tigers are cool, but I'm pretty sure we're more like panthers. Sleek, stealthy, majestic...pretty much awesome."

Breda's laugh came loudly over the comms. "You idiot...you're about as majestic as a toothpick." He and Maria were in position at the Munich Residenz, where they would plant a booster that would give Fuery uninhibited access to, and full control of, the location's systems.

"Thanks, dick. I mean, Ymir." Havoc took a few steps toward Becca. "That _is_ some phenomenal shit, Freya. You too, Loki."

"I know," the brunette responded with a grin, playing absentmindedly with the skirt of her dress. "Are we ready to go or what?"

Riza glanced at Mustang and nodded. "Let's move out." She saw him hug his niece, giving her a kiss on the top of her head, before saying a few quiet words to remind her to not distract Fuery. Then, they walked to the garage and she accepted the hand he held out to help her into the car, her muscles tensing minutely at the contact. Once seated she said, "Ymir, Hel...you're on."

"Copy that...But could someone remind me why _I_ have to do this?" Breda sounded the tiniest bit anxious as he and Maria made their way through the building.

Havoc's laugh sounded a bit more like a cackle. "A little nervous, Ymir?"

"Well, _Dagr_ , a.k.a. Jackass, you might remember that I'm usually the one behind the computer, not out in the field. And I'm still a little new at the sneaky spy stuff."

"You'll be fine, Ymir," Mustang replied, taking a longer route to give Havoc and Becca a suitable head-start. "Don't forget to play the cameras, guys."

"Yeah, and you're a nerd," Havoc added from the other car. "So we send you to do nerd things."

"Do the letters FO mean anything to you?" Breda asked and, since his voice had quieted, she assumed they were inside a more secure portion of the facility.

"Ahh...the immortal words of Burt Reynolds," Jean responded reverently. "That guy had one hell of a mustache, and he has the distinction of being one of my personal heroes."

"A dubious honor," Breda quipped. "And Tom Selleck's mustache was better. It was a classy mustache. A clastache, if you will."

"I will not," Havoc retorted. "...and for the love of mike stop naming things...you suck at it."

"Here's a funny story, no one answered my freaking question."

Riza chuckled. "You know why. We would plant it ourselves, but we want to avoid any risk of suspicion as long as possible at the exchange."

"Thanks, Loki, I feel so much better knowing that it's okay if the crazy guy finds _me_."

"I thought you might."

Mustang looked over at her, taking the tickets she handed him. "What about it, Hel? We haven't heard much from you."

"Well, other than the fact my codename makes me sound like the devil's spawn, I'm great," Ross drily told them. She had become much more friendly with Riza's crew of late, though it was clear she still harbored some cautious reservations.

"I think it makes you sound like a badass," Becca chimed in. "Like you're gonna rain _hell_ down on people...get it?"

"We're in," Breda told them. "Placing the booster now."

"See? That wasn't so bad, Ymir," Havoc teased.

"You can't see how nervously sweaty he is. Seriously, it's gross," Ross commented. "We're good. Exfil to base."

"Copy," Fuery interjected. "I'm in...I have the cameras and the security guards' comm frequencies. Target is not on site."

"That's normal," Riza reminded everyone, trying to avoid discouragement. "If he shows, he won't be early."

"Okay," Becca's gleeful voice came through the earpiece. "We are in like gin...got the secret VIP package. It's just a small card, made of unexceptional card stock, and it says 'B42, 2300.' That's it."

"Copy," she said. "We'll be there in five...and don't forget we're ditching the cars tonight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Not a minute later they parked, and Mustang chivalrously assisted her in alighting from the vehicle. They strolled down the sidewalk and then slipped into a side door using a borrowed pass, following the hallway toward the main lobby. When they reached the door to the Antiquarium, he pulled the tickets from his jacket and displayed them to a guard. They entered, scanning the room. "We're in, Freya."

"Copy, still no sign of target."

Riza grabbed a pair of champagne flutes and handed him one, unintentionally brushing his hand in the process. Taking a sip, she lightly held onto the crook of his arm with the other hand. "Two potentials at the bar...ten o'clock."

He met her eye momentarily and nodded. "I saw them."

"I have eyes on them," Fuery said. "They're good with the cameras though...can't get a clear line of sight."

"We're on it," Mustang replied.

"Freya, meet me for a brush," Riza added as they moved indirectly toward the bar, downing her drink and setting it on the nearest server's tray.

"Will do, Miss Thang."

She chuckled. "Freya, you are great at many things, but I don't think you can pull that off."

"Yeah, it felt really weird."

"Try being on the receiving end."

In the middle of the floor she passed close to Becca, taking the card and medallion and dropping them both discretely into her clutch. They kept walking and Mustang snapped photos of the men with his phone once they were within range, sending them to Fuery.

"Wow, not bad, Tyr. Great angles on their faces," the computer expert congratulated. "And the photo comparison says...Javier Celantos and Miche Barikov...known associates of Kimblee's. They are wanted all over the place in connection with a variety of crimes. It looks like they do it all...anything from security to hits."

"Thanks, Sig." Mustang shared a look with her, and she knew they were both hoping there were no hits ordered that night. With an amused smile, he leaned toward her and said, voice low, "I know this is my first evil-doers' convention...but this seems pretty tame."

She laughed, a small grin lighting her face. "What did you expect? That everyone would be running around with ropes and blowtorches?"

He shrugged. "The blowtorches must come out _just_ before the exchange."

The few hours before the meeting were uneventful, with both two-man teams continuing to observe the room at large. To anyone else they might appear to be wandering, but they kept tabs on any suspicious individuals, and searched for any guests that they deemed likely to attend the exchange. Throughout the evening Kimblee's men showed no signs of untoward behavior, simply taking advantage of the open bar and occasionally socializing. Not once did the arms dealer himself join the party, and there were no other unexpected occurrences, which in itself was a surprise. The seeming normalcy of the evening worried her, and as the minutes wound down to 2300 hours she kept watching, as if expecting something to happen.

Then, just as she was about to head downstairs, Fuery said, "A new signal just popped up and then vanished. Identifying and locating..."

Still, she finished her current glass of champagne and set it aside, meeting Mustang's eye. He gave her a quizzical look, clearly wondering if she should go given the mystery signal, and then nodded a moment later. She left in the direction of the restrooms and, with a quick scan around the hallway, she passed them, taking the stairs to the floor below and using wall-plaques to guide her to room B42. As she walked, she again had the feeling that something was not quite right; the night had been too quiet. For a sale this important Kimblee should have had more men on site, and she would have even expected him to oversee it in person. "Sig?" Riza muttered, hoping for information since once she entered the room she would have to avoid speaking in order to conserve her cover.

"Sig, could they have been testing a video signal?" Mustang asked. "The buyers might want to get a look at the merchandise."

A moment of silence and then, "No, it wasn't strong enough to stream that, it's more like they tested an emitter and a receiver, or sent a message. It could be how they're communicating with the target." He paused again. "But the signal _was_ centered in room B42."

She paused in the middle of the hall, her gut urging her to abort, but after a moment's consideration she continued. There was no choice, they had to know the identity of the buyer, and could ideally use the ensuing transaction to locate and apprehend Kimblee. Showing the card to the guard at the door, she entered the room and took a seat in the back, taking a look at the individuals already there. "I'm in." She saw the same attendees they had taken note of earlier, in addition to a few more faces that had chosen to infiltrate as members of the staff instead.

Glancing at the time, she noticed that exactly seven minutes still remained until 2300 hours, and the curiosity of the other guests was beginning to grow. Some were communicating over the phone with their associates, discussing money and transportation, while others sat silently watching the guards that stood steadfastly at the front of the room. The burly men were positioned on either side of a table that held only a speaker, and she inferred that the hired muscle would likely be communicating the details of the auction to their boss.

"Sig, what were the target's most recent movements?" The tension in Mustang's voice was only moderately elevated, but she knew he was likely more worried than he let on.

"Target is definitely in Munich...arrived two days ago, but that's all I have. He's tough to track," Fuery informed them. Essentially, despite their best efforts, Kimblee could be anywhere, and they could only wait to see if the exchange would actually occur.

"Could that signal be used to send something simple? Like a code?"

The line was silente while Fuery checked something. "Yes."

The appointed hour approached and she watched the crowd for anything out of the ordinary, brow furrowing when the guards stepped outside. At that point, she refused to wait any longer and stood, exiting through another door into a different hall. "Guards are on the move." Treading lightly, she followed the wall and leaned around the corner, just catching sight of the guards as they disappeared at the end of the hallway.

In the same instant, Mustang said, "Abort...everybody get the hell out. Sig, trip every alarm you can."

She heard a chorus of 'Copy' and Riza broke into a sprint, passing the door to room B42 as the alarms rang and the other possible buyers hurried out. She raced through corridors toward the stairs, keeping her eyes peeled and one hand near her pistol. Then, all the light's died simultaneously and there was piercing static through her earpiece followed by silence. _An electromagnetic pulse. Shit_. The fact that she was still alive meant the device was non-nuclear, and that she had very little time left.

Just when she neared the door to the stairwell it swung open and Mustang burst out, sliding to a stop when he saw her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she did not even have a chance to ask why the hell he wasn't outside already before he grabbed her hand, pulling her after him. They climbed back up to the main floor and ran down one hallway after another, diving into the next open room they saw.

He somehow managed to kick the door closed just before landing on top of her. They were in the process of rolling away from the entrance when there was an ominous, painfully loud explosion. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his arms encircle her as the shockwave coursed through the room. They brought their heads together and she placed a hand behind his neck as the floor trembled and the building shook. Riza kept hoping that the others had made it out safely.

She shut her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder, and could hear the crackle of the walls fracturing around them, the crash of furniture. Then, for a few seconds she could only hear the high-pitched whine that accompanied stunned eardrums while they still held each other, waiting for the ceiling to collapse. When nothing else happened she opened her eyes and took a breath, coughing from all the dust in the air, his body shaking with his own coughs

Taking in the room, she noticed they were under a table, and surrounding them were a series of fallen shelving units. It looked like a failed game of jenga. Coughing again, she let her head rest on the floor and caught Mustang's eye, his face mere inches from her own. Moving a hand upward, she wiped some blood from his forehead, taking a second to check his hairline for a wound. It was only a small scratch, and in that moment she fully recognized their position: he was straddling her right leg, and her left was partially wrapped around one of his. She found herself focusing on how dark his eyes were, how his hair fell across his forehead, and how, despite being covered in dust, he still managed to be ludicrously handsome. He smelled faintly of sage and birch, coupled with a hint of smoke from the explosion.

He removed the useless earpieces and, when his thumb swiped over some dirt on her cheek, her skin flushed. Softly, with a smirk on his lips, he said, " _Please_ don't knee me in the groin this time."

Riza smiled, laughing quietly, and hoped he was not aware of the thud in her chest. "No need...you're not trying to arrest me." Her grin started to slip away as she held his gaze, and the look he gave her sent a thrill through her chest. She was conscious of the feel of his hips, his waist beneath her arm, the pressure of his chest atop hers. His arm tightened around her, and then untimely shouts coupled with the sounds of gunfire reminded them where they were. Their heads turned sharply toward the door when more shots came from a distance and she met his gaze once more, exhaling slowly. Almost in a whisper, she said, "We should go."

He cleared his throat with a nod and slowly rose to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up. "They're performing a sweep...making sure all the intended targets were neutralized." His voice was a touch husky, and he cleared his throat once more.

"I agree." She drew the weapon holstered at her thigh and double checked that there was a round in the chamber. "We're on the eastern end of the building." Riza placed an ear to the door. "They're coming from the west...we don't have much time."

"There's an exit one hall north and twenty-five yards further east." He pulled a firearm from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber and the clip as well out of habit.

"But that opens on the promenade. We'll be sitting ducks."

He looked at her with a small grin. "Feeling academic?"

She smiled, taking his meaning. "I believe I am...I'm out first, then I'll cover your six."

Mustang gave a little shrug accompanied by a nod as he moved toward the door. "Sounds good." With one hand poised on the door handle, he met her eyes and said, "Ready?"

Riza nodded and as he swung the door inward she raised her firearm and moved through the doorway, firing when an enemy stepped around the corner from another hallway. He fell with a bullet in the forehead. Shooting a quick look behind her to gauge Mustang's position, she paced backward behind him as he cleared the way. She held the weapon out before her as she moved, sweeping her gaze over the expanse of the walkway. She squeezed the trigger when another of Kimblee's goons appeared from one hallway, and again when a man carrying an automatic weapon stepped into view. As she continued to walk she exhaled tensely because each time she fired, it drew attention to them.

Suddenly, around ten armed men appeared at the far end of the hallway, and she was about to open fire but with an arm around her waist Mustang pulled her into another corridor. They kept close to the wall to avoid the barrage of gunshots, and right next to her ear, voice low, he said, "We need to move before we're pinned down...I have an idea."

She nodded and then not a moment later he spun them, pushing her away and grabbing the barrel of one dark-clad enemy's weapon. A shot went off and she tried to use the wall to maintain her balance, turning to fire at the other end of the hall when two men burst into it. They fell and at the grunt of pain behind her she twisted back around to find Mustang had been knocked into the wall, his head contacting it with a dull clunk. The attacker was raising his weapon and she shouted, "Down!"

Mustang dropped and she put a bullet between the man's eyes before squeezing off a few more rounds behind her in an attempt to keep the others at bay. Riza could hear too many heavy footfalls moving in their direction and stooped to help him up. He pointed at the door across the hall and she led them in, pushing a fallen shelf against it, knowing it would buy them little time.

Seeing the line of windows at the other side of the room, she understood what he'd intended and grasped his arm, leading him to the window before opening it. They both slipped out and she closed it as well as she could behind them, hoping they could pull off this small disappearing act that might let them escape. But she could already hear shouts and barked orders from the other side of the door. Once on the promenade she took off her heels and they sprinted to the next building that housed the Academy of Sciences, breaking a window and climbing inside. They hurried through that room and then raced down the adjoining hall, making a series of turns.

After climbing up one floor she saw a sign that denoted a chemistry lab and directed them into it, securing the door. She was hoping that the room would provide them with cover, but would have few enough hiding places that their pursuers would not be enticed to enter. Riza guided them to the far end of the room, grabbing a few items from the first aid kit on the wall along the way, and they took refuge on the floor behind an experiment station.

She threw a look at the door and then turned to Mustang, who slid down along the cupboards and leaned his head back, eyes closed. She moved to his other side and checked the area just above his temple, where his skull had contacted the brick wall. When she raised a hand to his forehead he turned his head away with a muttered, "Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

Riza gave a soft chuckle. "Just let me take a quick look. You hit that wall pretty hard."

She reached toward him again and he grabbed her wrist. "Hey, that night we took Elicia back to the house in Virginia...did you tell your team that the bracelet was Gracia's?"

Her eyes narrowed, shaking her head in confusion. " _What_?" She brushed his hair away with her fingers and he stiffened subtly at her touch. "I think you may have hit..."

He grabbed her wrist once more and looked at her. "No, seriously, I'm fine. Check my eyes….this isn't a concussion talking. Just answer the question."

Riza watched him, trying to control her concern, and raised the pen light from the first aid kit, verifying that his pupils were equal and reactive. "I didn't tell them, I had no reason to. I don't think they knew about it until you destroyed it." Moving closer to get a better viewing angle, she took another look at his forehead and added, "There's a small bump and a shallow lack...it's already clotted."

He smirked. "See...it's fine. I'm told I'm very hard-headed."

She laughed softly, and then her tone turned serious. "Why are you asking me about that night?"

"Because our electronics were just killed by an EMP and I can be sure no one else is listening." He took a deep breath. "Remember the tracker in the bracelet? Before I threw it in the water I memorized the model and serial numbers, and I had a guy that used to work for my aunt take a look. The signal was obviously weak, and there was a ton of interference, but this guy can work miracles and he was able to isolate it. He could only access the limited data stored on the device, but it was enough." He paused as she wiped some blood from his forehead in the hopes of staving off unwanted attention on the return to the safe house. "Hawkeye, that tracker didn't go live until Elicia was at the house...with _us_."

Her eyes widened. "You have to be fucking kidding me."

He shook his head. "We have a mole."

She sat back, considering the possibility. "That would explain how he's managed to keep a step ahead...Raven's assassination, the Hughes family, the safe house, this explosion. And when he didn't go to his house in New Orleans we attributed it to Hughes' interference, but he could have been warned."

Mustang nodded. "In Virginia, I'm thinking they tipped off Kimblee, and installed the tracker in the bracelet to cover. Grumman, Breda, Ross, and Havoc were in the kitchen when I took it to wash off Gracia's blood, and they asked me about it. It was left unattended for a couple minutes at most, when I went to talk to you, and that was the only time it was off Elicia's wrist."

"This was all within a half-hour of our arrival, and my team definitely would not have known in time. Grandfather's out for obvious reasons..." She took a nervous breath, watching him.

"I know...I had opportunity. Technically I could be the mole." He exhaled. "I never would have sacrificed the Hughes family, not under any circumstances." His voice softened. "And I would _never_ work for the man that killed my parents."

"I know." They both stilled simultaneously at the sound of movement out in the corridor. Dropping the gauze and repossessing her pistol, Riza shifted into a crouch, positioning herself to be able to fire on the door, and heard Mustang do the same behind her. Booted footfalls came ever closer, and she could hear muffled communications over their radios. They were traversing the hallway quickly, not bothering to check every room or door. Clearly, the search was more perfunctory than anything, and they did not expect their targets to have stayed in the building. When all evidence of the pursuers faded, she slid back downward to sit on the floor, breathing a sigh of relief. "We should get out soon, in case they come back."

"We should," he agreed, and they stayed seated for a few additional minutes to ensure they were alone. He stood, pulling her to her feet, and they moved through the halls of the Academy silently and cautiously, keeping their eyes and ears vigilant. She led them to a staircase further away from the site of the bomb blast where they returned to the first floor and exited the building through a side door.

Sirens still wailed, and there was a bustle of activity near the building they'd been in for the party. Dust hung in the air and, not surprisingly, curious residents had started to gather around the site. She saw no sign of Becca or Havoc, and concern still swirled within her as she hoped they'd escaped. No matter what, they had to move, and walked as quickly as they dared in order to put as much distance between themselves and the Residenz as possible. When they were finally a few streets away, she stowed her weapon in its holster and paused to slip her shoes back on, gripping Mustang's arm for balance.

They walked for a few more blocks and she entered the first payphone she saw, dialing a number at random. Before the first ring finished she typed in an eight-digit code and, upon seeing his curious expression, she told him, "It flags the call for Sig, that way he can isolate and encrypt it without me actually having to call his number."

The ringing stopped and she heard Fuery's voice on the other end. "Thank you for calling Paradise Found...the environmentally conscious office furniture suppliers. How may I direct your call?"

Riza smiled in amusement. "Office furniture, Sig? I think my favorite was when you claimed to be the original Ben of Ben & Jerry's."

The younger man chuckled. "Just trying to mix it up. Anyway, how about a food run? I'm hungry and there's nothing to eat."

"I'm sure there's actually plenty to eat, but there is a little Thai place not far from me." Mustang gave her another questioning look, and she held up a hand as if to say, _Just wait_.

Fuery exhaled. "I am _glad_ to hear from you. We got separated at the party, and _some people_ have been freaking out." He lowered his voice. "Is Tyr with you?"

She met his eye for a second when she started to respond. "Yeah, Tyr's fine. We're on our way."

"He's fine, now back off," he told someone else at the house, and based on his mildly annoyed tone, she knew Ross must have been worriedly bothering him. Addressing her once more Fuery said, "Okay, I actually found some instant ramen here, so I'm good...Freya and Dagr are bringing the syrup, so just get home safe."

She smiled again, replied with a quiet "Will do," and hung up, turning from the phone to find Mustang leaning against the telephone booth's wall chuckling.

"That has to be one of the weirdest conversations I've ever heard."

"Really? You listen to Havoc and Breda all the time, but _that's_ the craziest conversation you've ever heard?" They both tossed their non-functional cell phones down the sewer and followed the sidewalk in search of a taxi.

"Good point."

"First he asked if I was okay or under duress. Then he told me the house is secure and that our friends will arrive clean." She hugged herself while she spoke, the night's chill abruptly noticeable since the adrenaline was leaving her system. He slipped off his jacket in response, settling it on her shoulders, and she was not at all disappointed when his fingers skimmed her. She grinned to herself and found his gaze. "Thanks." He nodded with a smile, they walked on, and she could not stop thinking about what almost happened after the explosion.

She knew that it was best to avoid any entanglements, knew it could complicate things beyond belief, and what made that knowledge even more unpleasant was the fact that her attraction to him was more than physical. He was so much more than the promotion-obsessed FBI agent that he first appeared to be. Though he often tried to hide it with a hard exterior that was not entirely false, Roy Mustang was caring, and kind. She was also aware that, while it was a habit of hers not to get too close, she had stopped trying to keep him at a distance.

Once they finally reached a busier street, Mustang hailed a cab and they climbed in, giving the driver an address a few blocks from the safe house. They were silent for the ride, and when the vehicle stopped she was relieved to find some cash still in his jacket pocket. Once on the sidewalk, they waited for the cabbie to drive away before moving in any direction. Their pace was leisurely, the neighborhood quiet, and her right arm repeatedly brushed against his left.

Nearing the safe house, they strode along one edge of the property and he he held open the gate for her. She gave him a smile of gratitude and, as they walked by the driveway toward the side door he started to move ahead of her, reaching for the key in his pants pocket. She played with the end of one of the jacket sleeves, looking from him, to the door, and back again. With a light exhale, she gently grasped his arm so he'd turn back. His eyes were inquisitive when they found hers, and the corners of his lips were curved upward curiously.

Not giving him a chance to say anything, she stepped forward and kissed him, pulling him against her by his shirt. He ran his fingers along her neck and slipped an arm beneath the jacket, wrapping it around her and trailing a hand down her side to tease along the fabric covering her thigh. Her hands dug into his back and he kissed her a touch more slowly, drawing it out. She yanked at his shirt and heard him inhale sharply when her fingertips glided over his skin. He kissed along the neckline of her dress and then with a hand in his hair she tilted his head back up to reclaim his mouth.

When he paused to look at her they were both panting softly, watching each other with little smiles. They were still catching their breath, in a kind of limbo, and then a sliding door at the rear of the house opened and Fuery was saying, "...should be here soon."

"Well, they'd better hurry," Becca responded. "We're having my famous lentil soup for dinner."

They quickly rearranged their clothing, Mustang tucking in the part of his shirt she'd pulled free. "Just so we're clear, lentil soup was _never_ famous."

Riza laughed quietly, fixing her dress and rapidly letting her hair down to avoid comments on its tousled appearance. "That's what we keep trying to tell her." She looked toward the patio where voices could still be heard and shared another look with him. "Well?"

He shrugged. "Ready as I'll ever be." He reached out to needlessly adjust the shoulder of her dress and she liked that he was coming up with reasons to touch her.

They started to slowly walk toward the patio and when they rounded the corner of the house, Fuery was the only one still outside. He rushed over to give her a hug. "You guys are okay! We were getting worried that you weren't here yet."

"We're fine, Kain." At the appearance of the others, she smiled in relief, pulling Becca into a hug. "I'm so glad you made it out safely."

"Same to you." Becca grabbed a glass of wine from the table and handed it to her,. "I'd say we've earned it."

She took a sip and Elicia came hurrying out of the living room, practically tackling Mustang. "Uncle Roy...before Riza called I was afraid you died." She released him from the hug, giggling when she saw his dust covered hair. "You look old...but totally distinguished."

"Thanks, kiddo."

Ross appeared at the door, her face concerned as she quickly looked him over for injuries. "You okay, boss?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Did we get anything?"

"We saw no sign of the target in the vicinity of the Residenz, and the signal that detonated the explosive was untraceable." She took a glass of wine from Havoc and added, "But Breda and Fuery worked some magic."

"We did, Boss," Breda confirmed as everyone took a seat at the table on the patio. "It was some real genius stuff, and we think we found where he's staying in Munich."

"Nice work, guys. Now we just have to figure out why Kimblee tried to kill all his buyers." Riza poured another glass, passing it to Mustang, who said, "Thanks, Hawkeye." She nodded, both as a 'you're welcome' and an approval of his story that they assumed the arms dealer had targeted the buyers. It was certainly plausible, and should keep the mole from suspecting that his or her presence had been discovered.

His niece's eyes narrowed, and she smirked from her seat between them. "How come you always call Riza by her last name?"

He chuckled as he raised the glass. "We weren't exactly on a first-name basis when we met, Lici. Maybe once you get a high-enough clearance I'll tell you the story."

Her laugh was half-snort. "Uncle _Roy_."

"Okay, let's dig in. I'm starving," Becca interjected, doling out bowlfuls of soup.

Riza accepted her dinner with a smile and took another sip of wine, briefly scanning the table, hardly able to believe that Havoc, Breda, or Ross were working for Kimblee. In fact, it was possible that they were working together, though that was unlikely and would have been noticed sooner. The thought crossed her mind that this was another problem with becoming too familiar, it made it remarkably easy to trust. At times, a healthy level of suspicion could keep one alive.

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 **AN:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews:**

hermit crab: I'm so glad you liked it! Roy finally got to sleep lol :)


	16. The Meeting

**Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! First, I am so sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter (for some reason it gave me a hell of a time). These last couple weeks got away from me, but I am finally able to post and will do my best to make the next gap more reasonable. Also, responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this one. On that note, this story has received 100+ reviews and I just wanted to say thanks to all of you! All the feedback and encouragement has been so wonderful.

Character/codename reminder: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen

Thank you again and, without further ado, here is the next chapter! I hope you like it :)

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 **The Meeting**

Two mornings after he'd nearly been blown up and peppered with bullets, Roy sat at the dinner table in the newly established Berlin safe house, drinking coffee and reviewing files on some of Kimblee's personnel. With each mission they acquired more information on the arms dealer's organization and, thanks to all the digital leg-work Fuery and Breda had done in the time since their visit to New Orleans, they had also compiled the locations of several properties owned by the target. As such, after the exchange-gone-awry they were able to track him to Berlin, where he had evidently stopped to monitor the fallout of the attack on the Residenz.

They were currently in the process of organizing a meeting and, though he was looking forward to finally coming face to face with their target, he could not deny his own apprehension. To keep up appearances, they would have to rely on Havoc, Ross, and Breda to support them as usual, despite the fact that any one of them might betray them at any moment. The mission was a calculated risk; one that he hoped would be worth it.

He looked up as Hawkeye moved around the kitchen preparing breakfast, stealing another glance at her as he'd occasionally done since she joined him downstairs earlier that morning. The various moments they'd shared played through his mind, and he felt the strong urge to pin her up against a wall and continue what they started. He wanted her alone, and not as part of a mission, or with his niece somewhere in the house, but actually alone. Though a repeat of the other night did seem like a fantastic idea, that was not his only motivation, as it was also maddening that they could not joke or flirt or be themselves with everyone else around. The constant company of the rest of the team was becoming increasingly irritating.

He thought back to some of their first interactions and chuckled inwardly at how quickly he had typecast her as Loki the thief, labeling her as a criminal that deserved to be thrown in jail. While it was true she enjoyed some of the more illegal aspects of her work, there was more to her than that. In addition to the many talents he'd witnessed, she harbored a deep-seated loyalty to those she cared for that rivaled his own, and she was funny in a quiet, off-handed way that could be easily missed. Not to mention that she was capable of incapacitating someone in a second which, quite frankly, was impressive. And sexy.

She took the seat next to his, setting her own steaming mug on the tabletop and giving him a petite smile, schematics already unfurled before her for Kimblee's two-story apartment and the safe he had hidden in another unit in the same building. She pulled a plate toward her, adding jam to a buttered croissant and offering him the other half, which he took. Her eyes perused the plans while she ate and he returned his attention to the files, trying not to imagine her pressed against the aforementioned wall.

They stayed like that for several minutes, until the silence was interrupted by Fuery striding into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. He gave a shrug and told them, "The house is clean, and I was thorough." He did not have an especially close relationship with any of the possible moles and, as such, he was the only other person they had informed of the problem. While Havoc, Catalina, Breda, and Ross were out of the house on various errands, he had used the time to sweep the house for bugs.

"Thanks for checking, Kain," the blonde replied.

"Better safe than sorry, right?...I still can't believe this." He left the room shaking his head.

A few additional minutes of calm later, her phone rang and Hawkeye immediately answered with, "Hey, Liv." She looked off at nothing while she listened, her gaze coming to rest on him for a short time, at which point she nodded. "Thanks." She set the phone aside. "She made the arrangements."

He took a drink of coffee and exhaled, preparing himself for the difficult conversation ahead of him. He started to stand, but was saved from having to go find his niece when she entered the kitchen, grabbed a drink, and plopped down in the chair to his left. She looked over what Hawkeye was working on and asked, "Analyzing the site to outline an infiltration strategy?"

He chuckled, closing the files that still lay open on the table. "Seriously, Lici, who's been teaching you stuff?"

She shrugged. "I've just been paying attention, Uncle Roy. Like you taught me."

"I never thought I'd say this, but stop being so observant. Your dad will kill me if I turn you into an agent." He paused and took a breath, gesturing in the direction of the back door. "Let's take a walk, kiddo. I need to tell you something."

His niece was instantly on the alert, and her eyes jumped between the two adults. "Just tell me, Uncle Roy. I can take it."

Hawkeye made to leave. "I'll give you two a minute."

"No, it's okay, Riza." Elicia reached out and put a hand on the woman's arm to stop her, motioning for her to resume her seat.

He hesitated a moment, but the teen's gaze was steadfast. "The head injury was worse than they thought...he was taken in for surgery to relieve the increased intracranial pressure. They're going to keep him in an induced coma a while longer so I'm having him transferred to a more secure facility." He paused, dreading the next portion. "We won't know for a while if there's been any permanent damage...I'm sorry, Lici."

She nodded, eyes slightly watery, and there was an ache in his chest. "His leg?"

"Healing fine. And stay positive, okay?" He placed a hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze. "The brain stuff sounds worse than it really is. The doctors are optimistic. He just needs time to heal."

Hawkeye handed her a tissue and she uttered a quiet, "Thanks." She wiped at her eyes and released a slow sigh. "I just wanted him to be _better_ , ya know?" He only nodded, unable to think of a response that would not sound trite. "People keep dying and my Dad's in a coma and I feel like I'm going crazy, but you all seem fine."

"Want to hear a secret?" The teen assented and he continued. "None of us are completely fine. We've just learned to hide it well for our jobs, or life, or any number of reasons. It becomes a habit."

She gave him a skeptical look. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, he's right," Hawkeye interjected, voice low. "You're not crazy, Elicia, and you're not alone. Trust me, the way you're handling it is _way_ more normal...and probably healthier."

His niece chuckled and he wrapped an arm around her, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. "He'll come out of this okay, kiddo...you know how stubborn he is. And anyway, I still owe him a couple hundred bucks from the last time we played poker. There's no way he's letting me get away with that."

The young woman laughed again as she sat up, nodding in amusement and playing with the bracelet he'd given her the day before. It was similar to the one he destroyed on the boat, and he'd been amazed he was able to find it. "Thanks, Uncle Roy." Taking her drink she stood, wiping at her eyes again. "I'm gonna go watch a movie with Kain."

"Okay." She walked away and his gaze turned to Hawkeye, who was back to analyzing the schematics. Keeping his voice quiet, he said, "I hate this."

"I know." The blonde set down her coffee and leaned toward him, forearms on the tabletop. "It's only for a little while."

He nodded, moving his hand to absentmindedly toy with the Laverna necklace she had wrapped around her wrist. "I'm not sure that makes it better." Her hand barely twitched when the back of his finger ran over the inside of her wrist, and he looked up at her. A smile lit her face, but then the door to the garage swung open and Havoc's booming voice said, "Holy crap nuggets...this is a lot of stuff."

They instantly sat a straighter and pulled their hands apart as Catalina came into the kitchen with a broad grin on her face. She laid a case on the table before Hawkeye and declared, "You're gonna _love_ this."

He shot the blonde a final smirk and stood, joining Havoc to help unload the remaining equipment from the Armstrongs. "Any problems?"

"Not a one," the other man replied. "The meet was clean, the return trip was clean...clean, clean, clean. I'm pretty much a professional."

"Yeah, you've been a 'criminal' for a couple weeks, so that's not an exaggeration at all."

Havoc paused in the garage, a bag on his shoulder and another in his hand. "Seriously though, for a bunch of _feds_ , as they call us, we're weirdly good at this."

He lifted the last bag and closed up the vehicle with a shrug. "Not that weird. You tend to learn a few things chasing criminals."

The other man led the way back into the house. "Have you heard anything else from Director Armstrong about what will happen once we catch the asshole? I don't really like that our fates are in her hands. She could screw us over... _easily_."

"Armstrong can't talk to anyone in the FBI until we're certain we've identified Kimblee's entire network. We won't know our options until it's over." He paused, gesturing toward the two women in the kitchen. "But Hawkeye trusts the Director, and we chose to trust Hawkeye."

"True." Havoc nodded thoughtfully, looking around the safe house and shrugging a shoulder. "I could probably get used to this, if I had to."

Roy chuckled. "Silver lining…you'd never be able to talk to your parents again, so they'd never pester you about grandkids."

"That would be a perk but, all joking aside, have you thought about what you're going to do when we finish this? The mission that brings down a guy like Kimblee...that's a career-maker."

"I really haven't." It was true, he had not seriously considered what would happen after the operation ended. Truthfully, he had been contending with a distraction or two recently, but his priorities continued to be protecting Elicia, finding Kimblee, and apprehending the arms dealer before he could do more damage. A few weeks ago, his plans consisted of continuing his work with the FBI, closing cases and climbing the ladder. There would have been no doubt in his mind. Now, however, the future was a muddled concept, obscured by the precarious nature of their situation and shifting circumstances. "I do know this...the status quo has changed. There's no going back to life as we knew it."

"Amen to that. It would feel different." Havoc tilted his head toward the pair of women. "Hey, you think it's too soon to ask Bec to move in with me? I know we're all living together right now, but I'm talking about after we get the bad guy. And if we're not dead."

"Yeah, man, it's actually moving at light speed."

"Okay." He nodded. "So maybe I should wait a day or two."

Later that day, Roy Mustang stepped out of a limousine in front of a skyscraper in downtown Berlin. The afternoon sun was shining, glinting merrily off windows, and the streets bustled with workday activity. He adjusted his tie, paired with an impeccable suit, and his sable-haired companion placed a hand through the crook of his arm, her little black dress showing the perfect amount of leg. He led her to the building's glass front doors as he said, "On site…Game on, guys."

"Copy that, Tyr." He smiled at the sound of Hawkeye's voice.

There was a low whistle through the earpiece and Havoc said, "Lookin' _good_ , Freya. Damn." A second later he added, "In position. I have eyes on target...still in the dining room of his fancy-ass apartment. And, just a quick reminder, I'm not crazy about heights, so if we could wrap this up quickly that'd be great."

"I'm happy to trade places, Dagr," Hawkeye replied. "You crawl through the vents, and _I'll_ sit on the rooftop with the big gun. I happen to like guns." Roy smirked at that comment, pulling open the door. The first floor lobby was open and bright with high ceilings, marble floors, and elegant seating in a windowed corner. If he had not known better, he would have guessed they were entering a five-star hotel as opposed to a downtown apartment building.

"Yeah, no thanks. It turns out I'm very claustrophobic," Havoc said. "And I think the fresh air out here is good for me...it's all open and non-venty."

"I thought so." There was amusement in her voice. "How are we doing, Sig?"

"Cameras are mine, and I was extra careful...he shouldn't know we're here. Still no way to access the vault's systems remotely."

"Copy." Roy and his partner for the afternoon made their way to the nearest bank of elevators.

"In position." Breda was stationed in a coffee shop nearby, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of people in the area. "And I'd help you out with the air-duct-thing, Loki, but I'm what the ladies like to call _husky_."

"No private security on the first floor," Catalina commented, pretending to talk to him. "He's keeping a low profile."

"In position...and I'm not seeing any activity at the rear of the building," Ross chimed in. "I wouldn't call you husky, Ymir. More like...sturdy."

"And _how_ is that better?" Breda asked with a chuckle.

"I'm in." Hawkeye was even more soft-spoken than before, likely to avoid her voice carrying in the duct-work. "Standing by."

"They're nearly there, Loki. You're a go," Fuery responded.

"One of my favorite things to hear, Sig."

"Okay, Tyr, now don't feel bad if Freya lies better than you do. She's an awesome grifter and you're, well...you."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Dagr." Roy strode into the elevator with Catalina, selected the twenty-third floor, and added, "We're on the rise...going silent." Both he and Catalina removed their communication devices, dropping them into a shielded and concealed pocket of her clutch. Roy's tie clip was bugged with tech that would not be picked up if Kimblee's men scanned them, but the earpieces would have been too much of a giveaway. Everyone else would be able to listen in, but he and Becca would be deaf to the team's activity. It was an unfortunate but necessary precaution as they hoped not to alert the arms dealer to their knowledge of the mole. It was all part of keeping up appearances, behaving as though the team had not been compromised.

He shared a look with Catalina and they took a collective breath, mentally preparing themselves. At the ding of the elevator they stepped directly into the apartment and were instantly met by two members of their host's security team. The men passed wands over both of them, taking the gun at Roy's back, the knife strapped to his lower leg, and searching Becca's purse. They were escorted into the spacious dining room, which boasted a table for eight, artwork on the walls, and a chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling.

And there was Kimblee, reclined in the seat at the far end of the table as if he had not a care in the world. His hair hung past his shoulders, his face was remarkably similar to that of a snake, and he seemed to be a late riser since he still wore a robe. Piercing, intelligent eyes watched them and Roy tensed the second he saw him, anger surging as the photo of his dead parents flashing in his mind, the arms dealer's calling card on their chests. His hand twitched with built up rage, part of him wanting to show the assassin the same courtesy shown to his parents. Still, he knew that any action he could take in that moment would ruin everything they had worked for, that killing him would solve nothing in the long run, and that the better reprisal would be to dismantle the criminal's entire operation. And he reigned in the emotion.

Kimblee eyed them haughtily, sipping coffee and not hiding the leer he directed toward the brunette. "Who are you, again?"

"We'd like to be new friends," Roy replied. "We admired your work in Munich."

"Is that so?" Kimblee set his beverage on the table and grabbed a slice of toast, idly taking a bite. "I suppose that's why you contacted my people in the middle of the night...And _who_ do you work for?"

"Zeus sends his regards. Now, are we going to talk business? Or are we playing twenty questions?" He smirked and helped himself to a few grapes.

"We will do whatever I want, Agent Mustang. That is your name, correct?" His look was calculating. "Mustang...that sounds familiar. Have we met before?"

Roy's stomach clenched and he fought the urge to introduce his fist to the man's face, smiling courteously instead. "I'm afraid not, and it's not 'agent' anymore."

"So I've heard. And now you claim to be working with Zeus? Until someone accepted his invitation the other day, I'd thought he was dead."

"I have worked with Zeus since before his disappearance, and I assure you he is alive and well." He gestured toward Catalina. "This is our associate, Veronica."

"Alright, Agent Mustang and Veronica, you have my attention." The arms dealer seemed almost entertained, as though he knew something they did not.

"Our employer has an offer for you," Catalina replied. "We are in possession of a copy of the plans for the Stone, and Zeus thought you might be interested."

Kimblee watched them and sipped his coffee, clearly trying to evaluate the veracity of the claim. "First, everyone knows he never obtained them. Second, your employer never ventured into weapons dealing. I see no reason for him to start now."

Catalina simpered, taking a few seductive steps closer to the target. "Let's just say that Zeus' theft was not as unsuccessful as the authorities claimed. And now he's looking to branch out."

"I see." The arms dealer rose from his seat, slowly pacing to stand in front of them, gaze moving from one to the other. "I see two problems, and one is with your story. You see, I know for a fact he's dead, and I have extremely reliable sources. So, why are you really here?"

"What? You mean what Raven told you?" Roy chuckled and shook his head. "Zeus deceived the world, you don't think he could fool his boss?" He maintained his attitude of comfortable self-assurance, silently taking note of Kimblee's caution. The target was taking special care to not say anything that might reveal that he had a spy in their ranks.

The arms dealer eyed him. "Why would your employer want to sell me the only thing that would prevent my creation of a monopoly in the black market arms business? It doesn't make much sense."

Roy shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "Zeus' motivations are none of your concern."

Kimblee smirked. "Fair." Then, he gave a little wave of his hand and the armed guards in the room raised their weapons in unison. "The other problem, Agent Mustang, is that I just don't trust you. Fortunately, my strategy is fairly simple...I kill people I don't trust." A few guards took a step closer and he added, gesturing with a hand toward the floor, "Not here, you idiots. This is a _very_ expensive rug. Use the clean room...this is why I have one, after all."

"That would be a mistake, Kimblee."

The other man chuckled, sneering at him. "No, the mistake was yours...when you thought you could con _me_."

"Maybe." He tilted his head as if considering that, and then he suddenly took a swing, landing a solid punch to the arms dealer's jaw, because he could not completely hold back that many years of pain and loss. Roy shook out his hand, unable to keep from grinning even as the muzzle of a weapon appeared in his face and a couple guards grabbed his arms to hold him back.

Kimblee held up a hand again to stop his men from shooting them on the spot, rubbing his jaw with an expression of amusement. His smile turned cruel, and an evil glint appeared in his eye. "How's the family, Agent _Mustang_?"

He gave the man one last glare while the security personnel ushered them out of the room, Catalina shooting him looks that asked what was going on. They were escorted into the hallway that ran along the edge of the apartment, following it in what he guessed was the direction of the aforementioned clean room. One wall was comprised entirely of floor to ceiling windows through which the sun shone, and he glanced out at the Berlin skyline as they walked.

Their progress was interrupted by the tinkle of glass, the whiz of a bullet, and as the man leading them collapsed to the floor Roy rammed the edge of his hand into the throat of the guard next to him. He drew the man's spare weapon and grabbed Catalina's arm, simultaneously shooting another member of the security team in the chest and protectively pushing the brunette behind him. They took refuge in a nearby archway as more guards appeared, and he was forced to keep an eye on both the hall and the doorway that connected the dining room to the kitchen.

He was trying to plan an escape route for them when numerous shots were fired through a nearby window and Hawkeye swung into the hallway from the floor above, shattering the splintered glass and already opening fire on the guards. She dropped into a roll, coming to a stop in a crouch immediately in front of him, squeezing the trigger a few times around the doorframe. With her other hand, she grabbed a pair of gloves from her back pocket, tossing them to Catalina and gesturing with her head toward the rope swaying in the breeze. Becca hurriedly pulled on the gloves and then Hawkeye caught his eye and they laid down suppressive fire while the other woman made a break for the rope.

When the brunette disappeared, the blonde performed a quick reload and handed him a comm device, which he fit in his ear before firing a few more rounds. By his count he was dangerously low on ammunition, and then the door to the dining room started to swing open and he added four bullet holes to the polished wood. Ejecting the magazine to verify, he quietly told her, "I'm out."

She nodded, squeezing off a few more shots, and produced a firearm from her boot which she handed to him. "Dagr, keep covering Freya. Let us know when she's safe."

"Copy that. Hey, you guys having fun yet? It sounds like a blast," Havoc was silent for a moment, and a bullet punctured one of the windows further down the hall. "By the way, I think I speak for all of us when I say...what the _hell_ was that, Tyr?"

"I'm still not seeing any activity out back," Ross interjected, sounding slightly puzzled.

"Nothing in front either," Breda added. "He's either not leaving, or he's a magician."

"Looks like he's sending some men up to check on the vault." Fuery's voice was tense.

"It doesn't matter," Hawkeye replied with frustration. "I didn't have time to open the vault. The otter was still working on the code when the target decided to kill people."

" _Shit_ ," Roy breathed, eyes glued to the dining room while she watched the hall.

"It's like they're coming out of the damn woodwork," she muttered, reloading yet again.

"Freya's clear, I opened a door for her a few floors down...get out of there. I'll cover you," Havoc told them.

They shared another look and spun around the door frame in perfect synchronization, weapons blazing as they raced to the open window. Bullets flew through the glass further away as Havoc provided support and, while Hawkeye tried to keep the guards at bay, he grasped the rope, wrapping it behind one leg and pinching it between his shoes. Stowing the pistol at his back he pulled off his jacket and used it to cover the rope in the hope of minimizing friction burns, clenching his hand around it as firmly as possible. "Loki."

As soon as she twisted to loop an arm around his neck and wrap her legs around his waist, he placed his arm around her with a vice-like grip and jumped out the window. Every muscle in his body contracted when gravity took over, and he felt her hold on him tense as they plummeted. The classic, non-mechanical rappel was already dangerous enough, and he was intensely aware that they were twenty stories above ground, and that the equipment was forced to support two bodies at once. She holstered her pistol as they fell, reaching up with a gloved hand to seize the rope, trying to provide additional braking power to help control their descent. Her right cheek was pressed against his, the rush of air filled his ears, and his heart raced as he looked downward, watching for the window Havoc had shot open.

They were falling too quickly, and Hawkeye must have come to the same conclusion because she cautiously removed her other hand from his back to grip the rope. Her eyes were a mite wider than normal when they found his, betraying her unease, and her legs tightened around him. Together they added as much resistance as possible to the rope and he held her gaze, the friction noticeable through the fabric of his suit. Her lips formed a thin line, her expression strained, and when they finally slowed to a stop, the bottom of the gaping window was level with his midsection.

They each reached a hand for the frame supporting the neighboring pane of glass and, making sure she had a secure hold on the rope, he dropped the jacket and placed a hand on the floor. Lifting them so he was essentially in a seated position, he cautiously moved away from the window and she disentangled herself. Then he fell onto his back, feeling utterly exhausted, and she collapsed next to him, trying to catch her breath. They stayed like that for a couple minutes at least, waiting for the tension in their bodies to dissipate, and when he turned his head to look at her she met his gaze, lightly twining her fingers with his.

"Loki, Tyr," Fuery tentatively began. "Ahh, I know you just almost died and everything, but I've got eyes on the target's men...they're moving toward you."

"I can confirm that," Havoc informed them. "Get out now."

Hawkeye took a deep breath. "Copy."

Roy slowly stood and pulled her to her feet, putting a hand on her waist to steady her still shaky frame. After a moment she nodded, drawing her pistol and leading the way to the emergency stairwell at one corner of the building. They flew down the stairs, using the railing to take them three or four at a time, and paused when they reached the bottom. He pushed open the door and then followed her through, each clearing one end of the alley. "No visual on the south side of the building...we're clear."

"Everyone scatter," she added. "We'll regroup at the safe house in a couple hours."

There was a series of 'Copy,' in which everyone was accounted for, and then he heard the familiar clicks as the earpieces were disconnected. At the same moment they removed their comms, crushing them, and headed toward the busier of the two streets they could see. He fixed his shirt, trying to look somewhat presentable after a several story fall, and she tossed some of her more obvious tactical gear into a dumpster. "So, was it enough?" he asked, glancing at her.

"It was." She smiled. "I was in and out of his apartment before you were in the elevator, and I got into the vault no problem." She was silent for a second. "It sounded like a nice punch, by the way."

"Thanks. It felt great." Reaching the sidewalk, they slipped into the middle of a group of tourists, weather eyes still watching for a tail. As they steered through the crowd, he quietly said, "I know a place we can lay low." He took her hand and they matched the speed of the group, disappearing into the first U-Bahn station they found. She handed him a pass Fuery had rigged in case they needed a quick getaway and, with a check of the platform, they stepped onto the train.

After five stops he led them out of the station and into a quieter neighborhood with a more residential atmosphere. There was plant life, some single family homes, and cozier apartment buildings, much different from the high rises they had just seen. They quickened their pace and he turned into a modestly sized, indoor self-storage facility full of small units meant to contain furniture, boxes of old clothes, or anything else a family might have lying around. Momentarily holding up a hand to signal a halt, he disconnected the camera at the mouth of one aisle before following the maze to the corner furthest from the road.

When he found the unit he was looking for, he touched the lock, looked at her expectantly, and she took out her lock picking set. Kneeling to get a better angle on the lock, she asked, "What if I didn't have my picks it with me?"

He chuckled. "You always have them with you...but if not we could just shoot the lock."

"That's _very_ incognito." She smirked at him, the lock popped open, and they slid the metal door upward, glancing to either side before entering the unit and shutting themselves in. He secured an additional lock that had been installed within and a light blinked on, revealing metal shelving along one wall that contained weapons, non-perishable food, bottled water, a stack of clothing, and tactical equipment. There was a table at counter-height in the middle of the room, and in the far corner stood a cot next to a bedside table with a selection of books, a few blankets, flashlights, and a battery operated lantern.

In response to her questioning eyes he said, "It's an emergency hideaway my Aunt set up. She doesn't have as many as she once did, but she keeps a few maintained." At that moment the ceiling light flickered out, and he carefully strode to the table to turn on the lantern. "Sort of."

Hawkeye simply smiled again, leaning against the centrally placed table and removing her boots. She peeled her gloves off, red streaks visible on her palms, opening and closing her hands a few times to test the sensitivity of the skin. They watched each other for a few moments, both mindful of the fact that they were alone, and that they had once again nearly died together. He moved toward her, taking one of her hands on the pretext of checking her friction burns, still not fully recovered from the sensation of her legs around him.

He caught her eye, gently tracing the edge of her palm and she hooked a couple fingers under his belt, pulling him closer. His gaze dropped to her mouth briefly and he kissed her, slipping a hand beneath her top to run up her back. She wrapped her arm around his neck, their hips colliding, and he tracked a hand down to grasp her waist, pushing her against the table.

Her lips grazed his collarbone, the pulse point on his neck, her breath skating past his ear, and he tore his shirt off. When she raised herself onto the table, he grabbed the backs of her knees, hitching her legs around him, and she broke the kiss long enough to yank her shirt over her head. He encircled her waist, his other hand clenching in her hair at the feel of her skin, her fingers raking over his back. He tilted her head to press a kiss to her neck, brushing his lips over her chest, and she arched into him, releasing a little sigh.

As she reached for his belt again he paused, the ability to think logically suddenly making a brief resurgence. His mouth was at the crook of her neck, their chests rising and falling rapidly and, though he hated to do it, he pulled back. He met her eyes and in them saw understanding coupled with the same frustration he felt. Her voice soft, one of her hands lightly playing with his hair, she told him, "Say it."

"Son of a _bitch_." His chuckle was dry, and he shook his head, voice resigned. "We shouldn't...Not right now."

"We need to be able to think objectively." She spoke quietly, with a slow nod, as if trying to convince herself, but her legs were still wrapped around him and his arms around her, neither wanting to separate. She gave him a once over, one of her hands moving to his chest. "But right this second I am so _fucking_ sick of making the right call."

He grinned. "I think we've reached the limits of your stoicism, Agent Hawkeye." She laughed and on impulse he kissed her again, her legs tensing, his hands following her thighs, her fingers gripping his hair. His mouth started down her neck again and she nipped at his collarbone, his hand moving up her back toward her bra, and they both froze. "Dammit," he said, backing off slightly. "It's not that I don't want to...we're clear on that, right?"

"We're clear," she chuckled, lowering her legs. "The team needs to be the priority, and if we start doing _that_...it could cause problems." They reluctantly separated and he retrieved both shirts from the floor, holding out hers. Putting it on, she glanced at the shelves, another little smile forming. "Hungry?"

"Starving." His body still thrummed as he paced toward the shelves on the other side of the room, looking over the food available. "Okay, we have cookies that are probably stale, some astronaut food that I refuse to touch, canned pears and, weirdly, a ton of canned chili."

"Chili, I guess."

He took a couple cans and a few necessary utensils over to the cot, along with water, and sat with his back to the wall. "Since we agreed that you owe me secrets, I'll take one now." His body slowly calmed and he looked up at her, satisfied to find that her skin was still flushed, hair ruffled.

"You did say that, but I don't think we agreed." She joined him and leaned against the wall at the head of the cot, using his lap as a footrest.

"You definitely agreed. I remember because you said, 'Why yes, Roy, I do. Does it suck being right all the time?'"

Hawkeye let out a chuckle, opening the can and eying her food a bit warily. "Now you're delusional, in part because I never call you by your first name."

"Feel free to try it some time." Roy held up a spoonful of chili. "And just know, I am fully prepared to pelt you with food until you concede."

" _Fine_." She took a bite, watching him while she thought. "Okay...I hate grapes, really _despise_ them, but I love grape-flavored things."

"For one thing, that wasn't really a secret...more like a quirk, or a factoid. Also, it makes absolutely no sense...grapes are phenomenal. It's a well known fact."

"You, sir, failed to specify the kind of secret you wanted, but..." She paused again. "My phone number is usually a variant of the number of this old ramen place. It's closed now, but Liv and I ordered from there all the time...it's the only reason we survived college."

"It seems like someone would be able to figure that out, if they looked closely enough."

She nodded. "It's possible, but Fuery changes it frequently, and rotates each variation through different cell carriers so they're used by upstanding citizens every now and then. And this keeps us from having to constantly buy and discard burner phones."

"Okay, carry on."

She smirked. "I like really dark chocolate...in part because I like to think I'm actually tasting the chocolate. I got my first tattoo when I was eighteen...first firearm when I was sixteen...it was a Pranze KZ 4100 semi-automatic."

He thought for a moment. "I have an unhealthy obsession with Oreos...ask Elicia, she'll tell you. I put peanut butter on them, and I blame her because for two whole months when she was eleven she watched that stupid Parent Trap movie constantly. They do the peanut butter/oreo thing, and after about twenty times that started to look like the most delicious idea in the world." He grinned when she laughed again and then said, "Ahh...nobody knows this, but I scattered my parents ashes at this park in Paris they always talked about. When I was sixteen my Aunt bought me an old Camaro that I fixed up. And I can't stand cantaloupe...I don't even know why."

"I thought I owed you secrets."

He shrugged. "It's not really as fun when it's one-sided."

Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. "It's Fuery...he said _charlie_." His gut sank, and he could feel her watching him. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," he nodded, pushing chili around with his spoon, gripping the can tightly. "We knew it was one of them." Despite that knowledge, somehow learning precisely who double-crossed them was no less difficult. He thought he had braced himself, that he could handle the truth whenever they found out, but it was still painful. In reality, knowing the identity made it worse, because the betrayal infuriated him and now he knew which of his friends deserved that anger, which member of his team had put them all, including his niece, in danger.

She leaned forward and took his hand. "They will _not_ get away with it."

"I intend to make sure they don't." He shook his head and glanced at the blonde, reminding himself that they finally had a moment alone, without the threat of imminent death. Refusing to let anger spoil that, he took a deep breath and waved a hand dismissively, setting aside his food and reserving his ire for the confrontation with the mole. "That's not really what I want to talk about."

She brushed her lips over his palm. "What did you have in mind?"

He gave her a mischievous look, running a hand up her leg, eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You said _first_ tattoo...how much ink are we talking?"

Hawkeye smiled. "I guess you'll have to wait and see."

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

Guest (Oct 4): Thank you! I'm so glad you hear you're liking the royai development! :)

Guest (Oct 5): Thank you :) I'm thrilled you've enjoyed it enough to read it over. As someone who has done that with stories, that's great to hear!

Guest 2 (Oct 5): Thank you! It's wonderful to hear you liked the flow of the chapter, and that the tension came out right :) I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Yla: Oh yay! Thank you! I was really trying to make their development feel natural, so I'm glad it came off well. Gotta have a fun new twist, right? Thanks! :)

hermitcrab: Thank you! I'm so happy you liked it, and that I was able to surprise you lol Thanks! :)

clic: Haha me encantan las expresiones traducidas literalmente :) Actually, writing this is really making me want to travel, too. I'm definitely getting the travel bug! The cities in this story have mostly been places I haven't had a chance to visit yet and would love to, or plan to, see. And this gives me a chance to research them. Glad you enjoyed it and have a good one! :)

Guest (Oct 19): Thank you! So glad you're liking it, and thanks for reading! :)


	17. The Midnight Sting

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! I apologize for another long gap! I said I would try to shorten the wait, but that definitely did not work this time. Life took me away again, and this chapter gave me a bit of a hard time as well. Still, I'll keep trying, and thank you all for your patience. You are amazing! (Also, responses to guest reviews for the last chapter can be found at the end of this post.)

One of my lovely readers suggested that a list of characters with their corresponding codenames would be helpful at the beginning of a chapter, and I am happy to do it :) I have been working on this story for so long that the codenames are almost second nature for me now, so I apologize if there has been any confusion! And thank you to the reader that pointed it out. I appreciate it!

Character/codename: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen (I stuck with the characters that are still alive, but I am pretty tired at the moment. If I missed someone, please let me know!)

On to chapter 17! I hope you enjoy it! :)

* * *

 **The Midnight Sting**

It was shortly after midnight two days later that Riza strolled along the north-eastern wing of the darkened Museum für Naturkunde in Berlin, Germany, vigilantly eying the black silhouettes of the buildings around her. The early morning was cool, a light drizzle dampening her hair, and the area was largely devoid of vehicles and passerby, the only sounds being the occasional car driving down the Invalidenstrasse that ran in front of the museum.

Overall it was peaceful and, though she knew the rest of the team was hiding somewhere nearby, she felt alone. She let that sensation of solitude take over as she walked, her body and mind in need of even the most fleeting moment to recharge, having had so little time to herself since the mission began. Part of her was angry, of course, that they had not discovered the breach sooner, and irate when she thought about all the death that resulted from that oversight. And that ire was not only directed at the mole but also at herself, because she should have noticed. Perhaps she had let herself become distracted.

Still, she smiled as she drew in a breath, setting those thoughts aside and shooting an appreciative glance skyward, optimistic for the first time since they had discovered the double agent in their midst. The night's mission at the museum would give them the chance to finally get ahead of Kimblee, and she would ensure they took full advantage of that opportunity. They could not afford to underestimate him in any way, but she was weary of being a step behind and, one way or another, this covert war with the arms dealer would end.

Checking her phone, she quickened her pace upon seeing one message from Olivier: _ETA fifteen minutes_. Becca abruptly materialized at the end of a driveway ahead to her right, breaking into a brief jog to meet her. "You could have told me before, ya know."

"I'm sorry, Bec, but you know why I didn't tell you before."

"Yeah, I know...but you still could've trusted me."

"I _do_ trust you. That's why I told you today." Riza came to a stop and placed a hand on her friend's arm. "I would have filled you in earlier, but you and Havoc have gotten close, and I didn't want to say anything until we knew something concrete."

"So, you thought I was compromised," Becca replied, moving forward again.

"No, of course not. I know you better than that...you'll do whatever needs done, no matter what." She paused. "Your feelings for him...that's the explanation I gave Mustang, Fuery, and Liv for keeping you in the dark. Honestly?...I can see that you're happy, and I didn't want to ruin it unnecessarily."

"Thanks for lookin' out." Her friend was silent for a second. "But if you do it again I'll hurt you. You know how much I like a good mole hunt."

"I'll keep that in mind," she chuckled, pulling an earpiece from her pocket. "We should get on comms...if we're not on soon it might look suspicious."

"Good point…but I was wondering. If the mole's been with us all this time, why hasn't Kimblee tried to kill us again?"

"Believe me, I've been asking myself that same question." She activated the device and fit it into her ear, checking the surrounding area once more for passerby.

At the same time, Breda was in the process of saying, "...already knocked out a guard back here."

"Way to keep it low-profile, _Ymir_ ," Havoc sarcastically responded from his hiding place near an apartment building in close proximity to the museum. "Why don't we call and warn them that we're coming. It'd be easier than knocking them all out."

"Geeze, _Dagr_ , someone's touchy. What crawled up your ass?"

"Freya and I are almost there," Riza announced, breaking up the squabbling before it could gain momentum. The museum loomed to her left, three imposing stories of gray stone, archways, and decorative columns, and they took a few more rapid steps to reach an entrance they had determined to be most easily accessible and least visible.

"Look who decided to join the party," Fuery teased. "Remember, once you pop the door you have ten seconds to get everyone inside."

"There were pedestrians near the front...I didn't think they should see me talking to myself." She knelt next to the door, pulling out her lock picks while Becca connected the otter to the keypad. "Copy to the ten seconds. All agents start your approach."

"I wasn't gonna say anything," the brunette quietly commented. "But this is weird. Maybe not Barry-crazy, but it's up there."

"I know." She took another look around. "After the last mission we don't have much choice. We need intel."

Her friend made a soft, irritated sound. "Don't remind me. It feels like we're right back at square one. The target's in the wind, you couldn't access the safe..." Becca winked and Riza responded with an exaggerated thumbs up as a confirmation that the grifter was player her role well.

"Yeah, and I have to go to a _museum_ ," Havoc added. "What's with that?"

She smiled when the picks settled into the right grooves, giving a little nod to indicate she was ready. "The Sphinx just happens to be _very_ paranoid...she won't deal with anyone in person."

"She also apparently has a penchant for leaving intel in strange places," Mustang commented in amusement. "And making us jump through hoops to get it."

"Okay, we've got the code," Becca informed her.

"I've looped the cameras and temporarily disabled motion sensors, so once you're inside you're good," Fuery threw in.

The brunette watched for their friends, entered the code when she saw them, and Riza immediately turned the lock to pull back the deadbolt, pushing the door open so the others could pass through. Once they were all inside the door was swiftly secured behind them to keep the alarm from sounding. The team fanned out, moving to their appointed posts to keep watch for guards and anyone else that might throw a wrench into their efforts.

"We've got the west wing," Havoc said as he walked away with a wave.

"Hey, the West Wing...I liked that show." Ross turned to leave with him. "Has anyone else noticed that Rob Lowe doesn't age?"

"Yeah, he's kinda like Enrique Iglesias in that respect. That guy looks exactly like he did twenty years ago. It's scary." Breda suddenly searched through one of his pockets. "I only have three syringes. What if I come across more than three guards?"

"You'll have to try out more of your German," Becca joked.

"Shut. Up."

"Loki." Mustang spoke quietly from her left, distracting her from the team's chatter.

Her lips formed a smirk when she saw him, and she reached out to take the key card he held between two fingers. "Thanks."

"No problem." He returned her smile. "We'll clear this area and take the east wing."

"Copy that, Tyr." She eyed her watch to verify their timetable and left with Becca, passing through the various paleontological displays and into a glassed-in courtyard that happened to house the largest mounted dinosaur in the world. Striding swiftly across it and into the mineral room they took the cast-iron spiral staircase that stood in one corner up to the next floor.

"This is a lot of trouble for a little information," Havoc commented. "I'm just saying."

" _What_ is your problem with this museum?" Mustang asked with a chuckle. "It's just a building."

"Yeah, just a building filled with creepy, _real_ stuffed animals. Their sad, glassy eyes judging me wherever I go."

Breda snorted loudly, trying to stop himself from laughing. "The dinosaur wing is clear." He paused. "You are messed up, dude."

"Just ignore the animals and keep your eyes peeled." There was still mirth in Mustang's voice. "We can't be sure of the target's whereabouts, and we don't want any surprises. Change the subject if you have to."

"Oh, you want me to change the topic? Take my mind off all the death? Happy to." A brief silence, and then, "Hey, Freya, who's Colin?" It was approximately the twentieth time Havoc had asked the question since they left the safe-house, ever since he'd discovered that the aforementioned man was a chapter in Becca's romantic history.

"Oh my _god_." Ross' exasperation was clear, and her exclamation was followed by a noise that sounded strangely like she'd punched him in the gut. "So she has a past...Get over it."

Riza caught the brunette's eye roll as they moved quickly along a second floor hallway toward additional stairs, and was about to speak when Mustang beat her to it. "Maybe you should focus on the mission, Dagr. And we cleared the insect displays...making another circuit. Not many guards on duty tonight."

"I have to agree with Mr. Sexy Voice on this one," she added. "This isn't the time."

"Ooh," Becca grinned enthusiastically as they started up another flight to reach the third floor. "Are we bringing that codename back? It's my favorite."

"They called you Mr. Sexy Voice?" Elicia suddenly asked, tone incredulous. "Eww."

" _Little One_...what have we said about you and ongoing missions?" Mustang said.

"Radio silence, right. Got it."

"Just a minute," Havoc added and then his voice lowered, as if that would make the conversation more private. "Freya, I know you have this crazy history, and I'm fine not knowing everything. But _something_ would be nice."

" _Okay_." Frustration tinged the Becca's tone. On the landing they perused the hall for activity before stepping out into the space reserved for zoological research. They moved toward the western-most portion of the building, reading wall-plaques along the way. "We met him on the trail of the Italian with all the paintings and the drugs. He was MI6, made an excellent osso bucco, and didn't even know my real name. I was Francesca to him."

"Oh, great...you only dated James-freaking-Bond. No big deal."

She chuckled. "He wasn't..."

"Pause your shit," Mustang interrupted more forcefully. "You can figure it out later."

" _Fine_. The place with all the stupid shiny rocks is clear," Havoc told them. "Also known as the mineral room."

Finally coming upon the area used for study on invertebrate animals, Riza swiped the keycard on the reader. "We're in." The room was full of floor to ceiling cases in rows that housed the department's specimens not on display in the museum proper. They split up, each taking a different aisle, and she said, "It's under arachnida...ataneae...theraphosidae."

"Ugh, Arachnida...I'm gonna go ahead and say that's probably something gross."

"You know, bears are _really_ big." Breda was evidently back in the section of the museum with mammal displays.

"No shit, Ymir. It's a frickin' _bear_." Mustang's tone conveyed entertainment with a hint of annoyance, as though he were surrounded by crazy people.

"Well excuse me, but I've never seen one in person."

"You've never been to a zoo?" Mustang paused and then, "How old are you?"

"We gave another guard the sleeping juice." Havoc's voice broke into the discussion. "Hid him in the bathroom. And you're more fucked up than I thought, Ymir."

Riza continued to skim the names of specimens as she listened, until Becca said, "Hey, I found the family. What's the name?"

"Lasiodora parahybana."

"Holy _shit_. I was right. It's gross."

Riza moved around the end of one of the rows to reach the next aisle and found her friend trying to stand as far from the specimen as possible without actually running away. Crouching next to the open drawer, her hair instantly stood on end and she jumped to her feet, shaking her head. "Oh, _hell_ no."

"What happened?" Mustang asked with concern. "Is it not there?"

"Oh, it's here. It's..." She took a slow breath, clenching her stomach. "It's just under a damn tarantula...that has _fur_."

"It's your turn." Becca punctuated her declaration by pointing a slightly shaky finger.

"Oh, no. No way...it's _your_ turn. I did the thing with the snakes last year, in Shanghai, remember?"

"That was hardly a thing, you didn't even..."

"Yes, I did, and there were a lot of them, so..."

"Hold up, we have company," Havoc abruptly spoke. "Hel, see if you can get a look out back."

"Copy."

Riza met the brunette's gaze. "What can you see, Sig?"

"I have police out front...I'm searching for cameras around the building."

"Copy." She exhaled in resignation. "Fine, Freya, give them a distraction."

The other woman's smile grew in relief and she raced from the room as Breda told them, "We have eyes on them around the east side of the building, too."

"Distractions are Freya's specialty...she'll figure something out." She took a couple steps, shifting agitatedly and muttering to herself as a reminder: "It's dead, it's dead, it's dead." For some reason, the fact that it was no longer alive and could not actually crawl all over her did not help.

"This had to be a set up. The timing is too perfect." There was anger in Mustang's voice, and she had the thought that he was also playing his part well, reacting as though they were on a normal mission. "How long have you worked with the Sphinx?"

She shook her head, once more crouching next to the giant arachnid, her skin crawling with that bone-chilling sensation of insects all over her. "This wasn't the Sphinx. Did we overlook a silent alarm, Sig?"

"Not that I know of."

She looked up briefly when more sirens could be heard and then set her jaw, her face screwed up as she used the longest lock picking tool to push the small drive from beneath the spider. "Okay, I got it."

"Copy," Mustang replied. "All the exits are covered, we're surrounded. We need to find an alternative."

"Copy that...on my way." Riza shook out her tense body, and was just about to secure the specimens when she heard soft footsteps nearing her position.

She tried to reach for her pistol and then a muted voice said, "Hands up and don't say a word. Get rid of the earpiece and draw your weapon slowly, with your thumb and forefinger." Taking the firearm from its holster, she gradually lowered it to the ground and pushed it behind her with a foot.

She then pushed the drawer closed and rose slowly, removing her comm and pressing the button to disconnect it as she turned around. "If you're going to point a gun at me, Ross, you'd better be ready to use it." The muzzle was trained on her face, but the distance between them was too great for her to make a move.

"What exactly did this contact give you, I wonder?" Ignoring her comment, Ross glanced at the drive and added, "There's a bookcase a few feet behind you. Set the intel on the shelf, and then keep walking backward." Riza did as requested and Maria slipped it in a pocket with a knowing smile before gesturing for her to move in the direction of the hallway. "I _knew_ we couldn't trust you. The cops happen to show up right as you're going for the intel? You either called the police, or those are Kimblee's men out there. Either way, you fucked us over."

"You think I'm a _double_? Why would I save your lives, only to screw you over later?"

The other woman gestured along the aisle in the direction of the door and they began to pace in that direction. "Saving our lives would certainly earn our trust, wouldn't it? Head toward the stairs."

As ordered, Riza continued down the hall toward the door she had used to reach that floor only minutes earlier. Ross was smart, keeping an adequate distance between them, always just far enough out of reach that she could not make a play for the weapon. She walked slowly down the hallway and, as they were nearing the stairwell, Havoc and Becca stepped through it, firearms already raised. Not a moment later, Mustang and Breda approached from behind, essentially boxing them in, and Riza turned carefully, hands still in the air to make sure no one fired.

"Ross?" Havoc's brow furrowed, his eyes moving from Maria to the gun in her hand, to the woman at whom it was pointed. "What the hell is going on?"

"We heard Hawkeye's comm disconnect, but... _Ross_?" Breda's voice was full of confusion.

The woman reached into a pocket, holding up a drive, but it was not the one from the drawer of tarantulas. "I told you we couldn't trust her. Check the intel...I bet it's useless. She has been communicating with them from the beginning, it's the only way he could have beaten us so many times."

"I'm not sure what you think you know, Ross, but you're wrong. I'm _helping you_."

"Come on. You expect me to believe you'd do this because you're just such a good person?" Ross shook her head. "No, I'm betting he paid you off. You're in the perfect position to sell us out."

She could not stop her chuckle completely. "Trust me, I don't need money."

"I've seen you on those private phone calls..."

"Yes, with contacts I'm using to _help you_."

Mustang took a step forward, leveling his pistol at Ross' head. "We know it was you, Maria."

Breda's jaw fell open in shock. "Boss? What are you doing?"

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?" The woman said angrily, her eyes starting to move a bit more frantically. "I saw you two the other night...after the exchange. She's good, I'll give her that." Riza fought the urge to find Mustang's gaze, and instead she continued watching, amazed that Ross was trying to both hijack the intel (which was fake) and throw any potential suspicion on someone else. She had to respect the gutsy tactic.

"Seriously...what the fuck is happening?" Havoc asked, voice taking on a note of urgency.

"That has nothing to do with this," Mustang quietly replied. "New Orleans, Hughes, Virginia, the exchange, the meet...it all went sideways, and it was all thanks to you. And then two days ago, you tried to have Hughes killed _again_."

"Wow." Maria looked at her, gesturing toward Riza with the weapon. "You're even better than I thought."

Riza smiled, dropping her arms to rest them but still holding them at a safe distance from her body. "I appreciate your commitment to the role, Ross, but you can stop the act. We ran a simplified barium meal test on the same day as the meeting with Kimblee. You failed."

"The team supposedly escorting Hughes was attacked en route to location charlie." Mustang paused. "Breda was given location alpha, Havoc was beta, and you were charlie. You've been working with Kimblee."

"Wait." Havoc's weapon lowered and he faced Mustang, wide eyed. "You thought I was a _mole_?"

"Havoc...later." Riza gave him a pointed look.

Ross watched them, and then her expression morphed into one more self-assured and haughty than normal. "It's cute that you think you've accomplished something, and really pathetic that it took you so fucking long."

" _Why_?" Mustang asked. "What could you possibly gain from helping him?"

The woman gave a loud, condescending laugh. "Fuck you, _boss_. This is not the part where we have a heartfelt discussion of my motives." She paused, listening to the sound of boots on the stairs growing louder, before focusing her attention on Riza. "Your team's cover is blown. You're welcome." Ross' smug smile grew. "That felt really good."

Her hand twitched, as though it wanted to form a fist, but she only smirked, trying to disregard the mind games. She reached for the pistol in a flash of movement, raising it toward the ceiling as it went off and then removing the slide. She grabbed the weapon from the woman's hand and threw an elbow into the side of her face, knocking her backward. Replacing the slide, she put a round in the chamber and raised the firearm as the barrage of footfalls came ever closer, the team watching with surprised eyes.

Her initial intention had been to disarm her, but then every tragedy over the last few weeks surged through her mind. Only now, she was in a position to do something. Riza exhaled and, while anger pulsed in her chest, the people and sounds around them fell away. Her index finger curled comfortably around the trigger and her pulse slowed as she automatically slipped into an oft-practiced calm, aiming for the point between the woman's eyes. Maria simply held her gaze, expression unchanging.

"Hawkeye." Mustang spoke softly, lowering his own pistol but keeping it in front of him.

Her rational side knew that they needed the information Ross could give them, that killing her now would achieve nothing. Meanwhile, the other side, the one that kept seeing Gracia lying bloodied on the floor, repeatedly watched Falman's head jerk to the side from the force of a bullet, and remembered her hands drenched in her own grandfather's blood, didn't care. Because of that woman Elicia lost her mother, Falman's twin sons would grow up without a father, and the _General_ was dead. Her index finger squeezed a fraction.

Next to her, Mustang holstered his firearm and stepped in her direction. "Riza." He cautiously reached for her hand, flicking on the safety, and his use of her first name drew her gaze to him. She watched him for several seconds, glanced back at Ross, and then handed him the weapon. The instant she did, agents burst into the hallway and swarmed around the prisoner.

* * *

Riza sipped mediocre coffee as she stood in a CIA black site just outside Berlin and watched Ross from the other side of a two-way mirror. The woman's posture was relaxed, arms crossed defiantly over her chest, and her gaze was disdainful, a far cry from the moderately sardonic woman she'd pretended to be. She sat in an interrogation room of average size, black walls bearing down on her, but she seemed surprisingly unconcerned. That would not last long.

She shot a look behind her as the door to the observation room opened and Mustang stepped through it, coming to stand next to her and following her gaze through the glass. Nudging her lightly with his shoulder, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She started to nod and then shrugged. "I don't know what got into me back at the museum. I just couldn't get Gracia, Falman, and the General out of my head. I feel like I lost control."

"Hey, nothing happened." He took her free hand and she raised her eyes. "It was a moment, that's all."

"One you stopped." She hesitated. "I could have killed her." Admittedly, it bothered her that someone else had needed to intervene at all.

"You didn't." He paused, seemingly to gather his thoughts. "You were angry, which is completely understandable. This is personal for all of us...And you're only human."

Her lips quirked at that comment. "You make a valid point." Riza sipped her coffee, lowering her voice. "You used my first name."

He let out a chuckle. "Yeah, I know I broke our unofficial protocol...but I wanted to distract you."

"Well, it worked, so thank you." Her head whipped around when the door opened again, slipping her fingers out of his, and Liv leaned against the door frame. Taking the file from the table, Riza held it out to her friend and said, "Was the huge spider really necessary?"

The other blonde took the documents with a pleased smile. "No, but it was fun for me." Olivier left, reappearing an instant later in the interrogation room and tossing the thick file onto the tabletop. She sat and drank her own coffee, watching the prisoner across the table.

Evidently impatient, Maria said, "Aren't you going to offer me something? Water, or a beer maybe? I assume you're here to soften me up before the real interrogator takes over." Riza was still unaccustomed to the woman's cocky manner since the Ross they knew, while confident, had never displayed such arrogance.

Olivier gave a laugh. "No, actually, I'm the real interrogator. You don't get my job without the ability to make people talk when they'd rather not."

"This is actually pointless. I'll never tell you where he is. He'll disappear, and eventually you'll get a nice bullet to the skull." Ross shrugged. "It's that simple."

"Oh, I already know where he is. You're going to tell me everything you know about the location." She smirked. " _It's that simple_."

"There's no way you could know that." Her voice was firm, but her brow showed doubt.

Olivier nodded. "It's a good story, actually. That time during your last mission, when Hawkeye supposedly didn't get into the safe...that was all bullshit. She not only got into the vault and rigged it so that only Fuery could control when it opens, she also infiltrated his apartment and planted an absurd number of trackers." She paused. "So I know exactly where that fucker is."

Maria shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not talking."

"I can understand that position. Kimblee's a violent guy, and no matter where I put you he could probably kill you. But I have a hunch that's not your greatest fear." The blonde flipped open the file, sifting through various sheets of paper and photos. "For instance, maybe you're worried about your real family in Poland..." Ross' eyes widened a fraction. "...or your younger brother enrolled in a university in England. My money, though, is on your daughter that lives in Montreal. And you can be sure that if we know about her, Kimblee does as well."

Ross stared at her, gaze boring into the other woman. "You don't know anything."

"Oh, don't I? Eva Makara, age seven...records indicate she was born in Montreal but Poznań, Poland, is her real birthplace. She lives with a woman named Mirta who, according to documentation, is her aunt but is in reality a hired caretaker. The address is 695 Sum..."

"Okay, I get it, you win. But if she is hurt in any way..."

"Save your threats, she's perfectly safe." Olivier removed another document from the file and slid it across the table. "The caretaker, Mirta, was on Kimblee's payroll. Hawkeye found all this out when she entered his vault...she called right away to have a team sent to find your daughter and take the woman into custody."

The woman's focus moved to the two-way mirror, where she knew Riza would be. When she next spoke, all derision had left her tone and her voice changed, taking on a slight Polish accent. "I'll tell you what you want you know, but I have a couple requests."

"My compliance will depend on the nature of those requests, and the veracity of what you tell us."

"I understand. I can ensure Eva is provided for, but I want her brought to the states, to a location of my choosing. Since I doubt you'll allow _me_ to hire a new bodyguard for her, I want Mustang to select a new guardian." Riza looked over at the man in question, catching his expression of astonishment, a sentiment she shared.

"That's all? As long as Agent Mustang consents, those conditions are acceptable to me." The Director half-turned toward the mirror. "Mustang?"

He was silent and then tapped a button on the board controlling the recording equipment. "I'll do it."

"Very well." Olivier shuffled a few papers around and picked up her coffee before continuing. "Can you please state your full, correct name for the record?"

"Maria Kasenka Lisiewska."

"We will have you give a full statement, of course, but I do have a few questions at this time. What is your connection to the man known as Solf J. Kimblee?"

"He's my half-brother...my mother had an affair with Kimblee, Sr. My father, the man that raised me, was Yury Lisiewska, and when he died we were destitute. When I was seventeen I went into the Kimblee family business in order to support them and I've been working with Solf ever since."

"And your position on Mustang's team? How did that come about?"

"Solf had been aware for some time that Agent Hughes with Interpol was building a case against him. In order to keep an eye on him, he bought an Interpol agent that works in the same office and I was sent to infiltrate Mustang's team. It allowed me to easily keep tabs on Agent Hughes and his family."

"And, if necessary, you could have used his family and close friend against him. Like when you arranged the contract on the Hughes family."

"Correct." When Ross responded Mustang stiffened, his jaw clenching at her admission that she had been involved in the hit and at the idea that they had intended to use him as a pawn.

"When the attack on the safe-house was not completely successful, why was no other hit attempted at another location?" Riza's curiosity was piqued with that question, as she'd frequently wondered the same.

Maria took a breath, head tilted as she considered her response. "Solf's most frequent impulse when presented with a problem is to have the guilty party killed. After our first attempts failed, I suggested that my place on the combined FBI-CIA team could be a useful source of information."

"And was it?"

"Yes and no. Hawkeye and her team are quite good at keeping everything from your end need-to-know, but I did observe a great deal of their operation and..." They would need to know the extent to which her cover had been undermined, and whether or not Becca and Fuery were in any danger. She had taken Ross' earlier comment as little more than a last ditch effort to screw with her, but it was possible that their real identities had been widely circulated. Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick message to Barry asking him to make inquiries.

Hearing a sudden knock on the door to the observation room, Riza turned to look and an agent gave her a nod. Briefly placing a hand on Mustang's arm to get his attention she said, "Fuery and Elicia are here," and then led the way into the hall beyond.

She navigated the maze of passages to the suite of rooms they had adapted for their use for the night. They had agreed it would be best to stay at the black site for the night, given the fact that the location of their Berlin safe-house was almost certainly compromised. Fortunately, their stay would only last one evening since they would be leaving the city the very next morning, the next stop being a CIA safe-house closer to the compound in which Kimblee had taken refuge after the recent apartment debacle. The entire team was in need of rest, as well as some down time, a break from being on constant high alert.

As they neared the rooms, the sound of voices carried through the door and, on opening it, she was met with even more boisterous bickering than usual:

"Seriously, you guys owe me," Havoc was saying. "I called it."

"What?! Then you are conveniently forgetting the other night?!" Becca replied incredulously. "And you _heard_ what she said."

"That was nothing." Breda shook his head vehemently. "Just trying to get into our heads."

"But what about what _he_ said? Kind of odd if that was nothing. And the plane?!"

"That could have been nothing, too," Fuery shrugged.

"Yeah, come on. You've got _nada_." Havoc's smile was smug, and he leaned against the back of a couch.

"What are you guys talking about?" Mustang chuckled, enveloping his niece in a hug when she came to greet him.

The four participants in the argument looked up sharply, not having noticed their entrance, before sharing a series of furtive looks with each other. Finally, Becca said with a shrug, "Nothing. We just had this stupid joke..." She raised her eyebrows at the others, as if asking for help.

"Okay," Breda began. "See, we had this crazy idea that you...and..."

"We had a pool going on you and Hawkeye...getting together," Havoc suddenly interrupted.

Riza caught Mustang's eye for an instant, brow furrowed, and then asked, " _What_?" A short silence followed her question, in which she tried in vain to think of some interaction they may have seen.

"Well…?" Fuery started, eying the rest of the group questioningly.

"See!" Havoc waved a hand in their direction. "Nothing. It's time to give me your money."

"That doesn't prove anything," Becca retorted.

"It's more convincing than your so-called evidence." Breda was all skepticism.

"This could go on forever," Mustang muttered, abruptly cupping her face to turn her head, and kissed. It took her a second to react, momentarily caught off guard by the action as they had been avoiding too much contact. Keeping their distance as if they'd pressed pause, stuck in a mutually agreed upon, though no less irksome, state of suspended animation. Vaguely, she was aware that the argument died away, and when they broke apart she smiled at him, a gesture he reciprocated.

Then Becca triumphantly declared with a satisfied grin, "I _told_ you. Pay up, losers."

They watched as the four involved in the bet engaged in a lively exchange of cash, the discussion turning to the topic of dinner. Amused, she shook her head and waved for Mustang and Elicia to follow her back out of the room. Once in the hall she led them toward another interrogation room and, at their expressions of mild confusion, she said, "I have a surprise for you." She stepped inside, receiving more curious looks, and simply flipped on the television screen set up near the far wall.

Elicia's face lit up immediately, her smile one of disbelief, and she took slow steps toward it. " _Dad_?"

"Hey, meerkat. Are you staying out of trouble?" There were a few cuts on his face, a yellowing bruise beneath one eye, and his voice was marginally raspy, but he was alive.

She nodded, eyes still wide. "You're...you're okay?"

"I'm okay."

She turned to Mustang. "But you said..."

"I know, kiddo. I'm so sorry I lied to you but, for our little trap to work, I had to tell you that story."

Elicia only gave another nod.

"Don't be mad at him, okay?" Hughes added, drawing her attention back to the television. "By the way, Roy, you still owe me two-hundred bucks…don't think the cracked skull made me forget." As Riza watched she thought his lighthearted manner seemed a tiny bit forced, as though he were trying to be cheerful for his daughter's benefit. They were both still grieving for Gracia, he had nearly died, and he wanted to give Elicia hope.

"Would I welch on you?"

"Probably. And you look like shit, my friend."

Mustang chuckled. "Thanks, man. It's great to see you, too."

The teen sat on the table that stood several feet in front of the television. "I'm just...I'm just glad you're alright." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "When can I see you?"

Hughes shook his head. "I'm not sure about the time-frame, Lici, but we'll get to see each other soon. I promise."

Riza turned back to the door and tapped Mustang's arm. "You'll have twenty minutes...that's all I could swing."

His gripped her hand, pulling her gently back when she tried to leave, his dark eyes full of gratitude and relief. "Thank you." With a smile, she gave his arm a light squeeze and left them to catch up.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day!

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting) **:**

Nightsong: Thank you! Really. I hope you know how great this was to read! :)

Guest (Oct 31): Thank you! I am thrilled to hear you're enjoying it :)

Anon-chan: Thank you so much :) I'm so glad you're liking the story, and that was such a wonderful compliment to receive!


	18. The Hammer and Anvil

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a good one, and Happy Holidays :) Responses to guest reviews from the previous post can be found at the end of this one. And I think I had more to say, but now I don't remember, so I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Character/codename: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen

* * *

 **The Hammer and Anvil**

Roy stepped out of the vehicle into the Mediterranean air, casting his gaze over the Port of Naples and the warehouse being used as their staging area. Even outside the structure there was activity, with some agents arriving, others leaving, and yet more groups going off to sweep the surrounding buildings. He shared an incredulous look with Havoc, who exited the car and joined him near the front.

His friend chuckled, shaking his head. "I almost forgot what having back-up feels like."

"So did I." He exhaled somewhat tensely, eyes drawn to the sea beyond the harbor, and muttered to himself, "Here we go."

They waited in silence a bit longer, both men well aware that the operation they were about to undertake could go horribly, stunningly wrong. The many trackers Hawkeye had planted on Kimblee's belongings back in Berlin indicated that he was in a warehouse he owned in the vicinity of the port. He had been there for several days, and the signals were still coming from the complex. A small voice of doubt within him wondered if it was all nothing more than a smoke screen, worried that the arms dealer had somehow managed to outmaneuver them yet again. He reassured himself with the thought that it would have been impossible for him to find and disable _every_ tracker.

Based on the interviews conducted with Ross and her description of the facility, which had differed substantially from the plans on file with the city, they had drawn up schematics. Using those they had planned as surgical a strike as possible, but unpredictable variables remained, the most dangerous being Kimblee himself. He had proved to be on the diabolical end of the Machiavellian spectrum, and their greatest advantage would surely be the element of surprise. Roy simply hoped the man was unaware of their presence.

Roy had used his travel time to begin compiling a list of potential guardians for Ross' daughter, still shocked that the request had been made of him in the first place. During their confrontation, she did not appear to be his biggest fan, though she obviously trusted him to some extent. While he did not necessarily relish helping her after everything, he would ensure that her daughter would be protected. The girl was an innocent party in all this, and he would not let the so-called sins of the mother be a detriment to her.

He shared another look with Havoc, thinking they should join the chaos, and his friend abruptly held out a hand. "Just in case we die...it's been an honor working with you, Roy."

He shook his hand. "And the same goes for you, Jean. I like the optimism, by the way."

The blonde man gave an amused snort. "I said _just in case_."

They strode toward the building, raising the temporary badges they had been given for an agent to verify. Several pop-up canopies were located inside the warehouse, clustered under cover of darkness along one wall. A few covered a collection of tactical equipment, others a makeshift medical suite for emergencies, and still others housed Fuery's electronic set-up.

They geared-up at a few tents, outfitting themselves with body armor and weaponry before moving in the direction of the main canopy, where Hawkeye and Director Armstrong were deep in conversation. To his astonishment, the Director was dressed in tactical gear as well, from which he guessed she would be joining them. Becca was already prepped and waiting, with Fuery nearby, but their usual lighthearted joking was notably absent, this particular operation being quite possibly even more critical than any before it.

Hawkeye's expression was focused, serious, but when she glanced up at his entrance her features briefly broke into a smile, and he felt his lips curve. He'd decided earlier that, once this was done, he would ask her on an actual, mission-free date. After all they'd been through, a date seemed like a small gesture, almost trivial in comparison, but it was a good enough place to start. And he had a feeling there was a pretty good chance she would say yes.

He and Havoc reached the table and Breda appeared to his left, asking, "Did you get Elicia squared away?"

"Yeah, she's set." Roy made some adjustments to his tactical belt and holsters. "She's at a safe-house with a protective detail, and she is _not_ happy about it."

Breda surveyed the tent and lowered his voice. "Fuery snuck her an earpiece, and set it to receive not broadcast. She'll be able to listen in."

"That'll make her feel a little better, at least." He was about to continue, but Director Armstrong started to speak, drawing the attention of every agent.

"Okay...the game plan is the same. We enter at these points..." She indicated on the map the few entrances into the building. "...and the clean-up crews will follow. Agent Sigurd, here, will quarterback." She placed a hand on Fuery's shoulder to confirm who she meant, the codenames being necessary given that they were covert operatives, and then looked around the group. "I am only interested in one prisoner, understand?" After receiving various nods in response she added, "Let's move out."

Roy stopped briefly in another tent, stowing a few more weapons on his person, and slipped his earpiece in place. He trotted to rejoin the group, falling into step between Hawkeye and Becca, the latter of which would be on his team. They moved through the darkness toward the warehouse, eventually splitting into the three teams that would ultimately breach the building. Havoc broke off to the left with Breda, and when Hawkeye headed to the right with the Director he caught her eye, giving her a look that meant 'be careful.' She nodded, her lips quirking, eyebrows raised in a way that said, 'you, too.'

She followed her unit, disappearing into a dark alley at a jog, and he picked up his pace, gesturing for Becca and the other agents to follow. They continually searched the surrounding area, full of unlit buildings and stacks of shipping containers, making sure they had not been found out. As they neared the target's warehouse, chatter over the comm devices increased.

"Alright, gang," Fuery started. "The cameras around the building have been on a loop since you left. I'll cut the power to the alarms and signal for you to enter."

Roy responded with 'Copy,' as did the other team leads Havoc and Hawkeye, and he raised a hand to signal for his group to slow as they approached the door. They group took up positions around the entrance, two agents standing on either side of the opening, a battering ram in-hand. Raising the combat rifle, he stood several feet in front of the door, with Becca beside him, and they waited.

Fuery's voice crackled once more. "All teams...check in."

"Red team, in position," Havoc replied.

"Blue team, in position," Roy quietly added.

"Gold team, in position." Hawkeye's voice was calm and even, and he pushed his concern for her to the back of his mind. He knew she could take care of herself, and he needed to concentrate, but part of him did not care for the fact that they were on different teams. He had grown accustomed to working with her.

"Copy. We're on the count..." Fuery told them. "Five...four..." He let his muscles contract for an instant, allowing his body to momentarily feel the full stress of the situation before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm. "...three...two..." There was some shifting around him as the other agents prepared themselves, and the sound of a chopper was just becoming audible, bringing the unit that would be dropped onto the roof to cut off any possibility of escape. For some reason, it felt as though the seconds dragged, until finally: "...one...All teams, move in."

"Copy." The agents holding the battering ram looked over, bashing the door in at his nod, and Roy was the first through, firing at the guard walking toward them down the hall. The sound of gunshots erupted throughout the building, but he only saw the one man near their entrance. "Clear." He turned back to the door and signaled to four men. "Hold this door...the rest of you are with us."

They started to pace cautiously along the hallway and Becca said, voice low, "Blue team is in."

His comm crackled again and he heard Hawkeye say, "Gold team is in."

"Red team is in," Breda told them.

"Target's signal is still stationary…looks like he's below ground." Fuery paused and Roy continued down the dimly lit walkway, squeezing the trigger when a man rounded the corner from another hall. He shared a look with Becca and crouched to check the adversary's pulse, nodding to communicate that he was down. "I'm reading heat signatures near your position Gold team," the tech guy continued.

"Copy, Sig," Hawkeye responded.

He waved a couple fingers in each direction and two agents started to head to the left and right along the walkway that crossed theirs. He and Becca had just taken a few steps when gunfire broke out further down the hall and they rushed backward, spinning around the corner to use the wall as protection. Switching his weapon to fully automatic, he swung his arm out and squeezed the trigger to spray bullets at the shooters, shifting back behind cover in time to see a bullet hit the portion of wall where his eye had just been. With a signal, he ordered a few men to try to use the passageways to get behind their attackers. Becca and another agent fired from her side, and then he fired again, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man behind him received a round to the neck, falling to the floor. "Blue team taking heavy fire...stand by."

Pausing to reload, he changed the selective fire setting to a burst of a few rounds and stood, taking aim as he avoided the impulse to duck. He pulled the trigger, his bullets finding one man's head, stomach clenching at the sudden, sharp pain in his right arm. "Shit," he muttered, stepping back to be fully shielded by the concrete wall, which was slowly becoming perforated by holes. Reaching over with his other hand, he pulled apart the tear in his sleeve, relieved to see that it was just a graze.

He hefted the weapon in his right hand, checking the level of pain he'd be dealing with, and again opened fire around the corner. Suddenly, the sounds of a firefight increased exponentially down the hall and then died away just as precipitously. He cautiously stepped back out into the hallway, moving forward at a wave from one of his men that had managed to attack the enemy from behind. "There were just four, sir."

"Copy...Blue team is on the move." To his group he added, "Let's pick up the pace. They clearly know we're here."

"You okay, Tyr?" Becca asked, glancing at his arm.

"Yeah, let's go," he nodded. "Sig, notify the sweepers we've got two agents down near this position."

"Copy."

They continued through the building, taking out the guards they came across and hearing the occasional conversation via comms, the rapport of gunshots echoing through the passages. Finally, they entered the large, open storage space in the warehouse, full of wooden crates and metal shipping containers. He broke into a run until they reached the door to a stairwell, signaled for one agent to open it, and then Roy stepped through. He squeezed the trigger, dropping a man at the foot of the stairs, and then hurried down to check the walkway beyond, agents following close behind. "Clear."

They followed it, glancing down halls that crossed, and surprisingly came across no more of Kimblee's security. He heard gunfire from elsewhere in the basement and, as they came to a particular door Becca informed the other teams, "Blue' team outside the office."

"Copy, Freya," Fuery replied. "Target should still be there...but be careful. I'm reading a ton of activity ahead of you."

"What kind of activity, Sig?" she asked, pausing for an instant.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. It's basically a shitload of outgoing signals."

"Copy," Roy replied, thinking something along the lines of 'that's a great sign' and signaling orders to his group. The team positioned themselves around the entrance and, glancing around to ensure everyone was ready, he kicked the door in. They rushed inside, opening fire on a doorway at the far end of the room through which Kimblee vanished in the same instant. A few agents were about to follow when the arms dealer tossed something back into the room before slamming the door shut and Roy shouted, "Stun grenade!"

The entire team dove back toward the walkway they'd just left, trying to close their eyes and cover their ears in the hopes of mitigating some of the effects of the device. The concussion from the blast shoved him forcefully against the wall, the back of his head knocking against cement, and he saw the bright flash of light beyond his eyelids, heard the loud bang even as he tried to muffle it. He slid to the floor and slowly opened his eyes, finding a thin haze of smoke dimming the lights, his vision only slightly compromised. He tried to rise gradually, regaining his bearings and, though his ears were ringing, it seemed his balance was mostly normal.

A couple members of Kimblee's security force burst through the opening their boss had just used as an exit, and Roy reached for one of his pistols. Before he could even raise it one man collapsed with a bullet to the skull and as the other turned back Hawkeye grabbed his weapon hand, swept his feet out from under him, and rammed his head into the large desk. He watched her scan the room, making sure everyone was alright, and when he saw a shadow through the haze approaching her six he raised his gun and fired. The blonde spun in response to the sound, weapon out in front of her as the man fell, and then found his gaze. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, somewhat relieved to see that she was unharmed. Her eyes came to rest momentarily on his bloody sleeve and he gave a little wave by way of telling her he was fine.

"Where's the target?"

Roy pointed behind her. "He went through there."

"Everyone okay?" Armstrong asked as she strode into the office, helping agents to their feet. "We need to get moving."

There were some mumbled replies but he did not pay attention, watching Hawkeye walk curiously toward the safe in the corner of the room. He paced in that direction, noticing that the small door was ajar, and they shared a look of confusion. She carefully pushed it open and softly said, "What the hell?"

Within the safe sat a rectangular device, cased in black plastic, with a dial on the face which was blank save for a blinking cursor at one end. He estimated the dimensions in centimeters at a length of twenty, width of ten, and height of five. It seemed strangely small, and he was having trouble figuring out what it might be. He felt it was a safe assumption, however, that the device was likely dangerous and deadly, thinking it unlikely that Kimblee would leave anything else. As he examined it, he thought it looked familiar, and his eyes widened when he realized he seen samples of schematics that resembled it before. "I think this is the _Stone_."

"Clear the room," Armstrong instantly ordered, and the other agents filed out to guard the doors. "Sig, take us off the party line."

"Copy..." A click was audible as electronics were disconnected, and Fuery's tone was anxious. "Did I hear that right?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Sig." Hawkeye looked at him in disbelief. "I was led to believe it was some kind of complex bomb. Everyone's been calling it a weapon of mass destruction."

"That's what I thought, but I see no explosives, no incendiaries. And with as small as it is, I don't see how on it's own it could cause even _mild_ destruction." He carefully moved the object to the desktop and the women joined him, eying it as numbers ominously flashed across the petite screen. Another round of numbers scrolled across, followed by three more digits spaced as if on a digital clock, which started to count down from 4:00. Based on what he knew of Kimblee, and the rate at which the numbers changed, he figured they were dealing with minutes as opposed to hours. " _Fuck_...It's counting down to something." His mind was suddenly all over the place, thinking about how in hell to disarm the device before Kimblee could escape. "You guys should leave...I'll handle this."

Armstrong stood straight, checking the number of rounds left in her current mag. "Somebody _does_ have to go after the target. Freya, you're with us."

"Red team has a visual on the target," Fuery told them.

He was only partially aware that they left the room, his thoughts already racing as he attempted to remember everything he'd ever heard about the Philosopher's Stone. However, the fact that he had only ever gotten a glimpse of the plans hampered his progress, not to mention the fact that 'glimpse' had taken place years ago, back when Gavilán was still alive. He looked up, instinctively raising his weapon when someone entered the room, before holstering it once more. "I meant you should leave, too, ya know."

"Too bad," Hawkeye retorted with a smirk.

"Yeah, forgive me for wanting you to leave the place that may soon explode."

"Hey..." She placed a hand on his arm for a second. "We've come through multiple near-death experiences together...and you don't mess with a streak like that." Though the comment was an attempt at something lighthearted, the look in her eyes was meaningful.

The significance of her return was not lost on him and, in another situation might have made him smile, but the light of the dial reclaimed his attention. "Okay," Roy said, exhaling slowly and using the blade of his knife to pry off the plastic cover in order to get a view of the electronics beneath. "Let's see what we're working with."

"Hey, good news," Fuery began. "Breda got shot in the leg, and the medics haven't gotten to him yet, so I'm putting him to work on this, too." There was a pause. "Well, not _good_ news...you know what I mean."

The inside of the device was a confusing tangle of single-hued wires connecting the small display screen to a circuit board and what he deduced must be an emitter and receiver. For such a highly lauded weapon it was unexpectedly simple, however it was likely that therein lay the genius. The fewer systems working together, the lower risk for potential mishaps, and its onslaught of outgoing signals would impede any attempts to access it remotely. "How many signals did you say this is broadcasting?" he asked, taking a photo and sending it to the tech geniuses, hoping they might have some insights.

"Literally too many to count, but not all at once. So unless someone's looking for it, it would probably go unnoticed." The younger man sounded both amused and bewildered. "And they change constantly, without any recognizable pattern, so there's no way to jam it. I'm sure there's a pattern, but it would take me too long to figure it out….I'm looking at the image. Give me a sec."

"As you can see, we have a little under three minutes. And it's probably safe to assume that's not enough time to isolate which signals matter."

"Bingo. That would take a _long_ time...with help," Breda informed him.

"I'm starting to feel awesome about this." He looked the stone over once more, shaking his head, and then something occurred to him. "Holy shit...It's a _homing_ device. A stupidly impenetrable one...it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Similar to infrared without the potential weakness of false heat signatures," Hawkeye thought aloud. "With a beacon like this I'd say the missile would only have a receiver, so it would be untraceable...making it a semi-active guidance system."

Roy nodded. "In that case, it would be long range. And that means no cutting wires...even if we cut off the signal the missile could lock on to the last known location." He paused. "And we don't have time to figure out where it's coming from to try to arrange an intercept."

"I think I'd like it if it wasn't trying to kill us," the blonde next to him murmured.

"I've looked at the photos," Breda commented. "Theoretically, if I could examine the emitter, we could spoof a signal to make it detonate early, but there's no time for that now. And it's a solid bet the missile as already been fired."

The number of solutions that were already ruled out by a lack of time was extremely irritating and he exhaled, momentarily meeting Hawkeye's gaze. "Then we'll have to give it a new target." Without another word she grabbed the device, sprinting from the office, and he was not far behind. "This missile has to come from somewhere, Sig. Tell me there's something you can do in case we don't make it far enough. It's only a matter of minutes before an ordinance arrives with who knows what kind of payload." He tried to the remember the building plans Ross had described to them, tapping her shoulder and pointing down a hallway they were about to pass. They raced along it and then down another, toward the door that Havoc's team would have used to enter earlier. With dread in his gut he glanced at the timer: _Sixty seconds_.

"Ahh..." the younger man uttered tensely. "Okay...there is _one_ possibility, but..." He hesitated. "Hey, Loki...scale of one to ten, how mad will you be if I tell you I still have a backdoor into the NSA's network?"

Roy heard her laugh as they burst through the door, bolting toward the water's edge. "If zero is not mad? Around a negative forty-eight. Do it."

"So, this tech is NSA, right?" the computer expert said. "And the target hasn't had it long enough to revamp it. I can't interfere with the Stone, but if I can find the satellite this system is using to boost communication, I think I can interrupt or alter the signal at that point."

"Sig." The strain from his mad dash bled into his voice. "Please be fast."

"Yep...on it." _F_ _orty-five seconds_.

"Sig," he quietly said. "In case this doesn't work, tell Lici I love her." He knew they had been disconnected from the others, and that she was probably no longer listening.

A pause. "Okay."

He and Hawkeye ran on, jumping down a set of stairs onto a concrete pier and she pointed ahead, darting in the direction of a port-authority speed-boat located halfway down. They periodically ran past a lamppost casting a yellowish light on the dock, and the rest of the time he had to strain his eyes in the darkness. Through his comm, Fuery could be heard conferring with Breda about some piece of technological brilliance or other. "I found the satellite," he finally said. _Thirty_ _seconds_ _._

He hoped that leading the missile into the bay would be enough to diminish the potential collateral damage. He hated that phrase, collateral damage, because it implied that there was a certain quantity of death and destruction that could be considered an acceptable loss. _T_ _wenty-five_ _seconds_. Jumping into the back of the boat she set the device on a seat and he quickly pulled out his knife to cut the craft free. She started it up, increased the speed, and he simultaneously looped a rope around the steering wheel to keep the boat traveling straight. _T_ _went_ _y_ _seconds_.

"Almost there," Fuery said, furious typing in the background.

Hawkeye stepped up onto a cushioned seat, diving off the stern, and he followed suit seconds later, swimming the fastest freestyle of his life. _Fifteen_ _seconds_. The nearest ladder still seemed miles away, and after the sprint the impromptu swim was sapping his energy. It was almost as if he could hear the whistle of an approaching missile, though he knew he was imagining that. _Ten seconds_.

She started to slow ahead of him, the exertion no doubt weighing on her as well, and he tried to push on, counting down silently. They finally reached a ladder and grabbed the rungs to catch their breath, watching each other and hoping there was enough distance between themselves and that boat. He put his arm around her, wanting to make sure neither of them were thrown off the ladder in the aftermath but too exhausted to climb onto the pier.

Then there was an abrupt, deafening explosion and they jumped, grip on each other constricting in surprise. The detonation had come five seconds too soon and they relaxed in relief a moment later, looking at a point high over the bay to see the last few burning scraps of missile tumbling lazily to the water's surface. He released a sigh and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest, his arm still securely around her shoulders.

Slowly, she raised herself onto the wharf, turning to offer him a hand when he followed. The pair stood silently for a second, her hand in his, but his gaze shot back toward the collection of warehouses when he heard a string of gunshots at surprisingly close range. They shared a look, expressions equally exasperated, and he knew they were both wondering if it would ever end. They started forward slowly, picking up the pace, and as he removed the now useless earpiece he lamented the fact that both firearms he still had were water-logged. Not only would the weapons be far less effective, they would be far more dangerous to use, since water would undoubtedly remain in the barrels, acting as an obstruction.

Once back on solid ground they ran in the direction of the shots, approaching two shadowy buildings with an alleyway just wide enough for a vehicle running between them. He heard Hawkeye quietly say, "Liv," and when she sped up he could make out a figure on the ground, leaning against a wall. She knelt next to the woman, who had a hand on her abdomen, blood trickling out of a wound in her side. "Jesus, Liv. You okay?"

"Yes...I already called for medical." Her voice was low, pained. "Fucking explosion distracted me...Stupid mistake." She tilted her head to her left. "He went into that building."

A few agents were lying prone nearby and Roy took a couple pistols, exchanging them for his and picking up two more for Hawkeye. She was checking her friend's pulse, verifying that she was not fading and would be alright until the medics arrived. Evidently satisfied, she asked, "Was he alone?"

Armstrong nodded. "For now...he called someone."

Riza stood, holstering one of the weapons he handed to her, and they paced carefully into the space between the two warehouses. He heard nothing from within the building, and when they reached the first door he opened it for her, signaling to communicate that he would use the next entrance to approach from a different angle. He strode more swiftly, rounding the corner of the building and freezing for an instant at the sound of a single gunshot, wishing they had functional comm devices. He broke into a run, hurrying through the next door which was already open.

As he paced along a stack of crates he started to hear voices, changing his trajectory to move toward them. Nearing the northeast corner of the building, he came upon a small, open area close to the exit where Hawkeye and Kimblee stood, each with a gun aimed at the other. A man that must have been another of the arms dealer's employees lay on the ground, a bullet hole between his eyes.

Roy pointed his firearm at the back of Kimblee's head, who was in the middle of saying, "...Loki, right? Tell you what. I have more men on the way and, if you let me go, I'll order them not to kill you, just to shoot you so you can't follow."

He stepped into the dim glow from the building's emergency light on the wall. "I think you're outnumbered, Kimblee."

The man turned his head slightly, acknowledging the presence behind him. "Agent Mustang…you found us. Wonderful. I heard the explosion..."

"It was midair. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear there was no damage." Now that he once more had the arms dealer in front of him, images of his parents again assaulted him, his gut contracting as he remembered the piercing anguish of finding them. He thought of Falman, Gracia, Grumman, Denny, and the countless others whose deaths could be either directly or indirectly attributed to the man before him. He was loathe to admit it, but there was a part of him that wanted to shoot the motherfucker, that would gain some satisfaction from it. He hated that part of himself.

"You know me so well. How is Maria? I suppose I have her to thank for your visit. I'll have to remember to reward her accordingly."

"Drop the weapon, Kimblee," he replied, ignoring the man's comments.

"I'd rather not, for obvious reasons." At that moment two of their target's men joined them, one of them holding Roy at gunpoint, and Hawkeye gaze flitted to the other men before finding his. She gave him a look and he nodded imperceptibly that he understood. He eyed the others as she started to drop into a crouch and, in the same moment that he fired, she squeezed her trigger and flicked a knife at the man on her right.

He watched the three men fall, abruptly the only one left standing, and he was frozen for several moments, processing the fact he had just killed the man that killed his parents. He felt strangely calm, having anticipated the elation of vengeance or the guilt of having taken a life. Unexpectedly, he was at peace. His attention was drawn to Hawkeye and he took a few steps to help her up, stretching a hand out to the crates behind her and passing a few fingers over the bullet hold he'd put there via Kimblee's head. "That was kind of a crazy idea, you know."

"Yeah." She let out a chuckle. "One of us needed to draw their attention, and I was in the best position to do that. And...I suppose I preferred the idea of me being in the line of fire."

Roy turned to face her, taking her hand. "That's funny…the reverse would have made me feel better."

She smiled and shifted closer, putting her free hand on his chest. "Well they didn't get a shot off, so it doesn't matter, but next time _you_ can be the one that might be shot." After a pause she added, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I am...I don't think it's sunk in yet." Taking a look at the bodies around them he said, "We should check on the Director, and Breda...and call a clean-up crew."

She tilted her head, listening carefully and stepping back as she cautiously reached for a weapon. "One may already be on the way." Sure enough, a team burst through the nearest door, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of other entrances being breached. Hawkeye gave the arriving team's lead agent a nod and, as they walked to the door he glimpsed the bodies, still not used to the fact that it was _over_.

The night sky was full of stars, a warm breeze flowing through the buildings, and for the first time in recent memory he felt unburdened. His team could return home, Elicia would be able to see her father, and he'd thought of a bar near his apartment that would be perfect for pre-dinner drinks. He could take Hawkeye there to kick-off their evening out, and he recalled several excellent restaurants in the area. His ruminations continued in that vein, and he stole the occasional look at her as they returned to the staging area. When they entered the building, he said, "I'm going to check on Breda...Back in a sec."

Hawkeye nodded with a smile and, as he strolled away, he saw her go directly to where Becca and Fuery were waiting, and the trio hugged. At that point he entered the medical tent, grinning since he could hear Breda chattering away even before he saw the man. He was clearly taking excellent pain killers by that time and, when his friend saw him, he loudly said, "Hey! Boss...have you talked to the Director yet about getting me one of those _bears_? I think it'd make me look crazy badass."

"I doubt the museum is just going to give you a bear, man, but I'll talk to her." The space was small, and Roy was shocked to find the Director was absent. "Where is she, anyway?"

Breda gave an exaggerated shrug. "No idea. She was here a few minutes ago, said she was fine, and left." He shrugged again. " _Women_." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The Director is _hot_."

He grinned in amusement. "Right...so, you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah, Boss, I'm good. But I think I'm gonna ask for more pain killers in a minute. I got shot in the _leg_."

He shook his head. "I really don't think you need them." With a hasty look back he added, "Hey, I'm gonna go look for everyone else...figure out when we're leaving."

"Aye, aye, dude."

Roy slipped back out of the tent, searching the staging area for the rest of the team, but Hawkeye, Catalina, and Fuery had vacated the spot where he'd last seen them. He made a hurried circuit of the other tents, running into Havoc who was on his way to visit Breda as well. His brow furrowed as he continued through the makeshift base of operations, as he'd seen no sign of Director Armstrong either. Returning to the medical tent's entrance, he cast another glance around the area and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath.

She was gone.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews** (in order of posting):

Guest (Nov 25): Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it! :)


	19. The Final Chapter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA.

 **AN:** Hello all! I hope everyone's new year has been a happy one so far! I'm not including the list of codenames since I don't believe I used any in this chapter, and I think this chapter might be the only one without codenames, which seems crazy. Also, responses to any guest reviews from the last post can be found at the end of this one. That said, this is the last chapter of the Trickster and the Lionheart, and I'm a little sad that it's over. Thank you so much for all the support and feedback! It has been wonderful and I appreciate all my lovely readers! I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

* * *

 **The Final Chapter** (~17 days later)

Roy shut the door and leaned on it with a heavy sigh, loosening his tie and feeling utterly relieved to be home. The couple weeks since the showdown with Kimblee had been an exhausting carousel of debriefings and interrogations, which generally led to days that stretched into eternity. First, the Central Intelligence Agency had spoken to his team, and then came a round of questioning with the Federal Bureau of investigation, followed by various other agencies and government officials that had gotten wind of what happened. If they called him in one more time, he was seriously considering pressing charges.

Shortly after their return to the States, Roy and his team were exonerated of all accusations of misconduct. Evidently, despite the fact that they'd had no word from Hawkeye, Director Armstrong, or anyone else, the right people received the necessary evidence to clear them of suspicion. The weapon and plans had been recovered, it was proved beyond a doubt that his team was framed, and the infamous Kimblee was out of the picture. Needless to say, the arms dealer's absence had been noticed, and it was the talk of intelligence and law enforcement circles.

"Uncle Roy?" Elicia's voice called his attention as she peeked into the hallway from the kitchen, her tone one of warmhearted exasperation. "Will you _please_ make Dad sit down? He won't listen to me."

He chuckled with a nod, walking tiredly into the room to find the man standing at the counter. "Maes...stop being an idiot." Hughes' injuries were still healing and, given the severity of his leg wound and subsequent lack of mobility, Roy had invited them to move in with him.

"Not being an idiot, just...proactive." His friend winced briefly after accidentally putting too much weight on the leg in question.

Roy moved around the island in the center of the room and put Hughes' arm around his shoulder, helping him hobble back to the table. "Pushing yourself too hard won't help."

"Yeah, yeah." He exhaled in pain as he sat, using his hands to lift his leg and rest it on the chair next to his. "That's what I keep hearing, but somebody had to make dinner."

"How was PT?" he asked, pacing back to the refrigerator and cracking open a beer. He peered into the pot of soup simmering on the stove and grabbed a spoon to taste it before joining his friend at the kitchen table.

"It was great. Not at all painful," Hughes facetiously replied.

"He's making progress." Elicia sat between them, wearing a broad smile. "The therapist said he's her best patient."

"I'm pretty sure she's just being nice," he replied, wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders to give her a half hug. Looking over at Roy he added, "What did they want today?"

He took a swig and then rubbed a hand over his face. "They offered me a job... _Raven's_ job. I would be the Deputy Director of the Criminal Investigative division."

"That's good, right?" Hughes asked.

He gave a light shrug. "Maybe. I haven't decided yet. I told them I was going to take some time off...think about it."

"Are you okay, Uncle Roy?" Elicia quietly asked, looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He nodded, giving her a small smile. "Just tired."

She hesitated, slowly turning her glass of water on the tabletop. "Have you talked to Riza? Cause I...I was just wondering how Kain was doing."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lici. I haven't heard anything yet. As soon as I do, I'll tell you."

"Okay." There was another moment of indecision, and then, "Do you think we'll see them again?"

"I don't know. I'm sure we'd all like to, but... it's a complicated situation." He took a drink, hoping to change the subject. "Let's eat. I'm starving." He doled out bowlfuls of soup and they had a quick, late dinner before Elicia went off to do make-up work for school and Hughes went to rest. Taking another beer from the fridge, he retreated into his room and stretched out on the bed with a book. He was able to hear just a hint of the music playing in Elicia's room, and glanced upward when sounds of remodeling came from the unit above his. He attempted to read distractedly for a while before shutting off the light and lying back, his mind preoccupied.

The time since the final operation in Naples was a blur, and it had been in no way easy to keep Hawkeye out of his head. He still had no idea where they'd gone or if he'd see her again, and he could not deny he'd hoped for more. What exactly 'more' entailed he couldn't say, since he knew they both had their lives and it would be absurd to expect that to change after mere weeks, but he would have been open to discussion.

While others in his position might have been angry, he did not feel it was his place. She was a clandestine agent, and he understood that disappearing acts came with the territory. In truth, he was more disappointed and hurt than anything else. For one thing, he was absolutely positive that what had developed between them was mutual. They never spoke about it, never labeled it, but they both knew it was there. For another, it was quite possible that the blonde thief he once chased had turned out to be the person most capable of understanding him. And that was never an easy thing to lose, especially since memories of their time together had been running through his mind all too frequently.

He exhaled, glaring at the ceiling when the incessant noise in the room above him became even louder, wresting him from his thoughts. It was a cacophony of hammering, the shifting of furniture, and the occasional saw, with some heavy footfalls thrown in for good measure. It had been going on for a solid week and, though he liked to think he was a patient man, he was quickly reaching the point that might lead him to punch someone.

He closed his eyes, trying to tune it out, but they quickly opened again at the racket's resurgence and he left the apartment. He took the stairs to the next floor, thinking about how he'd hate to be 'that guy,' but it was already midnight and he was plenty drained as it was. He knocked and took a breath, calming himself to make sure he was not too abrasive with his neighbor, but when the door swung inward his jaw fell open instead. " _Havoc_?"

"Hey, man." He hooked a thumb toward the rooms behind him. "Sorry if we're making a ton of noise, just trying to get a few changes made before all our stuff's here. We'll quit for the night, though."

Roy's brow furrowed. "When you said you were moving, you neglected to mention you took the unit above mine."

"Oh, _hey_!" said an upbeat voice that he instantly recognized.

"Hey, Bec. How are you?" He forced a smile onto his face, but the twinge of resignation in his chest was difficult to ignore. If nothing was keeping Becca away, it meant that Hawkeye had decided, and that whatever future she had chosen did not involve him.

"I'm great!" She grinned, elbowing Havoc. "I'm moving in with _this_ guy...and I'm going legit." She paused. "Well...sort of."

He waved a hand toward the other doors down the hall. "Last I knew all the units were full. How'd you get one?"

"Fuery bought the building..." Becca told him, as if that should have been obvious. "...and kinda _encouraged_ people to move out. With money. He's taking the entire top floor, and Breda's taking the apartment across from ours." She paused and shared a quick look with Havoc, clearly hesitant. "I...I don't know about Riz. She disappeared after debriefs, and didn't tell me where she was going. She does that sometimes."

"Debriefs," he repeated, not entirely certain how to respond to the rest of her informative declaration. "We wondered what happened to you."

"We were holed up at a black site for nine god-awful days. No contact with the world, no leaving, just interviews. It fucking sucked."

He let out a quiet chuckle. "Tell me about it. That's been my life lately." He fought back a yawn and added, "It was good to see you guys, but I'm gonna head back down."

"We won't work anymore tonight...promise."

"Thanks." With a small wave he was heading back down the stairs, his mind already returned to its pensive state. Once in his apartment he went directly to the kitchen, grabbing another beer and taking a long swig. He glanced around the darkened room, nodding a few times as if to will himself into acceptance. Part of him had assumed that he would hear from Hawkeye eventually. Evidently he was wrong.

* * *

In all honesty, Riza had never felt like such a coward in her life. Fear had gotten the best of her before, she was only human, but not quite like this, and she was as far from proud as one could be. When she left Naples she had little choice, having direct orders from Liv to leave immediately for a black site. And to her chagrin she'd felt a sliver of relief, since disappearing meant she could avoid the conversation with Mustang that she was not ready to have. The conversation in which they would acknowledge and perhaps even act on everything that had been happening between them. _Such a coward._

She had never felt so conflicted, either. On the one hand, she felt the urge to maintain the life of comfortable anonymity she had spent years cultivating, and on the other there was a powerful desire to give up that familiar life. Riza knew Mustang was the cause of her hesitation, and the significance of that thought was sobering.

As if to make matters worse, during her interviews Liv had informed her team that Ross' claims were false and that their covers were still intact, which meant she could carry on as before. In the next breath, her friend offered her a position overseeing operations from her offices in D.C., meaning she would no longer be a covert operative. She could exist as herself, live in the same place for an extended period of time, and do normal things like visit the same café more than once, or date an FBI agent. It was so far outside her comfort zone that it petrified her.

Riza was ashamed to admit that a third option had crossed her mind: vanish completely and live off the sizable nest-egg built by her father, the General, and herself. But she refused to take the easy escape. After leaving Italy without a farewell and being unable to bring herself to contact him in the six days since her release from debriefs, she'd decided that no matter her decision she would speak to him in person. He deserved that much at the very least, which was why she was in a taxi, apprehensively watching buildings flit by and hoping that seeing her after more than two weeks of silence would not be the worst part of his day.

A bag of her few remaining possessions sat next to her, and she could not count the number of times she wanted to ask the driver to head right back to the airport. Instead she handed him some cash and stepped out onto the curb, strangely feeling that she would almost rather disarm a bomb. She inhaled, chest tight, and ascended the stairs to his floor to give herself a little more time to gather her thoughts. Coming to a stop in front of the entrance to unit 302, she realized she was more agitated at that moment than she had been before the mission in Naples.

She knocked three times and then ran a hand through her hair, pausing when she heard steps approaching the door. When it opened her stomach clenched and, before she could really process seeing him again, she smiled nervously and said, "Hi," instantaneously thinking it was one of the more lame openers at her disposal.

"...Hi." Mustang watched her for a second, dark eyes displaying surprise, and she was briefly unsure of what to do. His hair was damp, likely from a recent shower, and the implications of that thought led to others but she shook her mind clear. She felt something like a wave of relief on seeing him, which made the concern that he might turn her away that much more intimidating. After what felt like an age he pushed the door further open, waving a hand inside, and with a small, appreciative curve of the lips she followed him into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and asked, "Beer?"

"Sure." She hastily twisted off the cap and drank, hoping for a little liquid courage. "How are you?"

"Ridiculously busy...Hughes and Elicia moved in, I've had a ton of interviews..." He trailed off.

Riza shook her head, voice softening. "I'm not sure why I asked that. I didn't come here for small talk." She exhaled, hands idly playing with the bottle. "I owe you an apology...for disappearing like that. At first I had no choice and then...I needed some time." She paused. "You deserved more."

"True." He gave a little smirk, leaning against the counter, and she liked to think there was a note of jest in his voice. "But...we've all had a lot to think about. I get it." He took a drink, and she knew he was waiting to hear the reason for her visit.

Taking a deep breath and deciding to take the plunge, she met his gaze again. "I came in from the cold, Roy. My covert status has been terminated...effective immediately." He stilled, the bottle inches from his lips. "My old life isn't enough anymore...mostly because I want you in it."

He stayed motionless for a moment and then took a step toward her, her pulse spiking when she felt his fingertips on the side of her neck. He gently pulled her into a kiss, threading his fingers into her hair, and her hand gripped the front of his shirt. She drew him closer and, without breaking contact, started to lead him from the kitchen. He guided her down the hall, his fingers grazing her waist, and they smiled into each others lips as they gently bumped against a wall. Riza deftly loosened the first few buttons of his shirt, wrenching it free of his pants and pulling it over his head. He pushed her jacket off, his hand lightly following the curve of her shoulder, and she slipped out of her shoes. She ran her hands down his bare abdomen to remove his belt, softly biting his lip when his fingers traced her spine.

Still moving backward she took off her top as he stepped out of his pants, a small sound escaping her when he wrapped his arms around her, his skin warm on hers. Her back collided with another wall and he lifted her, carrying her a few more steps until they fell onto a bed. He reached down to unfasten her jeans and brushed his lips along her jaw, the hollow of her throat, her sternum. Then he pulled the waist of her pants down slightly, pressing his lips to the soft skin just above her hip.

* * *

With a smile Riza looked over at the man lying next to her, watched his chest rise and fall slowly, followed the ridges of his abdomen down to the sheets at his waist. The apartment was quiet, peacefully so, and it struck her that no one was trying to kill her, no mission awaited on the immediate horizon. It was an uncommonly tranquil moment, and very few times in her life had she felt so thoroughly content.

She rolled out of the covers and slipped on one of Roy's shirts before walking to the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the wood floor. Looking around the kitchen for a glass, she filled it with water when she found one, turning mid-drink when she heard footsteps. He stopped in front of her to borrow the beverage, and she twitched in surprise when his other hand traced the unadorned tattoo on the side of her hip, the outline of a bird in flight. "I noticed this, by the way...I like it."

"Thank you." She glanced down at the tattoo. "It was my first. Mom loved birds, always had feeders all over the yard, and song sparrows were her favorite." Looking him over, she added, "You don't have any...I thought you would."

"I said I _might_ ," he chuckled. "Not my fault you thought that meant I _do_." He refilled the glass. "And nice try, but no subject changes...we're talking about you. The salamander. I asked before if it meant anything and you said 'yes and no.' What's that about?"

Riza laughed. "Of course you remember that." She looked at him, strangely finding it impossible to stop grinning. "It's nothing deep...I just liked it. And since I was getting it, we encoded in the design the location of every cache my Dad ever had."

His eyes widened. "Seriously?"

She nodded, but when she next spoke it was not in answer to his question. "Ah...this is kind of sudden, and I know it may not be the best idea. We haven't known each other long, and Liv told me you took the job she offered you….so we'd also be working together. And if it's too much, I understand, but..."

He tilted his head, eyes amused. "Are you trying to say you want to move in with me?"

"Yes." She gave a little self-conscious snicker, taking his hand and pulling him toward her. "My house _did_ explode."

"Yeah, and I seem to recall you being the one that blew it up." He hugged her, casting his gaze over the apartment. "I think there's enough room here for one more." He brushed his lips over the skin between her neck and shoulder. "Do I get some sort of bonus for living and working with you?"

Riza heard the playful note in his voice, and his breath on her neck made her skin tingle. "Yeah. Living _and_ working with me. Was that not obvious?"

He chuckled quietly, his mouth at a point just below her clavicle, and then a key scraped in the lock and they both looked in the direction of the door. "What's with the chain, Boss?" Havoc's voice came from the hallway outside the apartment. "I came to steal food...let me in."

They shared a smirk, hurrying to collect their abandoned clothes and racing to the bedroom to get dressed. He was ready first and threw her another grin as he turned away, shutting the door to give her some privacy. She looked around the room as she finished, picking up the photo of Roy and his parents that she'd seen the last time she was in his apartment.

Setting it back down, she took a small picture from her jacket pocket, running a finger over the partially frayed edge. Her mother and father were beaming, her younger-self sat between them on a wrought iron bench in the park where her parents first met. They had just gotten ice cream, and she remembered that it was the last time they had all been together. She leaned the photo up next to Roy's and, with a final quirk of her lips, she left the room.

* * *

Later that same evening, Riza sipped a glass of wine and watched Mustang move about the kitchen preparing dinner. He was talking to himself while he cooked and she simply observed, still growing accustomed to her new circumstances. Her lone bag was already unpacked and, since her belongings had been substantially diminished when she destroyed the safe-house, that meant she was essentially moved in. It felt a touch strange, but in an undoubtedly good way.

"You keep watching me." Roy gave whatever was in the saucepan a stir, eyes narrowed playfully. "Making sure I don't screw up?"

"Not at all." She shook her head. "It smells _amazing_. What are we having?"

"Osso bucco with gremolata and risotto." He laughed lightly. "Ever since Becca mentioned it the night of the sting I've had a craving for it."

The front door suddenly closed with a bang and Riza smirked. "Speak of the devil."

"Hey, would you come stir the risotto? It needs constant attention." He smiled at her as she sidled in front of him, feigning annoyance and taking possession of the spoon. With a hand on her waist, his other brushed her hair aside, and she tilted her head so he could graze his lips over her neck. "Thanks."

"Unless you want this to burn, you'd better stop distracting me." She turned her head to kiss him, and his arm started to wrap around her.

"Something smells pretty great in here, Mustang," Becca greeted loudly, her footsteps in the hall reminding them that she'd arrived. " _Surprisingly_."

"He might know his way around a kitchen better than you, Bec," Riza replied with a coltish grin, more than mildly disappointed that he was moving away to check the veal.

"How _dare_ you." She paused in the doorway before coming to give her a hug. "Hey, Riz, it's good to see you."

"Hey, yourself." She poured a bit more warmed broth into the risotto and stirred while it was absorbed. "I hear you're living upstairs."

"Yeah. It's a good thing I came along, too. Jean can't decorate for shit."

"Gee, thanks," Havoc said, joining them in the kitchen. "Look who I ran into coming down the hallway," he added, pointing behind him with his thumb.

"It's official, Uncle Roy. You've eaten all the Oreos in D.C.," Elicia began, dropping several bags on the counter while Breda helped her father limp into the room. She glanced over the stove while she shrugged off her coat and continued, "Dad said you should really think about working out but I told him to..." She paused. " _Riza_?"

"Hi there, Little one." She passed the stirring obligations off to Becca and embraced the teen, adding quietly, "I missed you."

Elicia pulled back, expression suddenly serious, gaze searching. "Are you staying?"

Riza nodded. "I am."

"Good." She pulled her by the hand toward where Hughes still stood with Breda. "Dad, this is Riza. Riza, Dad."

They shook hands, and his green eyes were cheerful and bright despite everything that had befallen him. "Thank you," he softly said as Breda moved away. "I'm told you saved my daughter..." He gestured to her left, where Mustang had appeared. "...and you kept him alive, which is basically a miracle, cause he's an idiot."

"And you're an ass."

Hughes ignored his friend's comeback, tilting his head as he considered her, eyes narrowing somewhat. "I was bleeding out...and you held my hand."

"You did?" Roy asked, and she felt his hand graze her arm.

She opened her mouth, looking around the small circle, and then said, "I wanted you to know you weren't alone."

"Thank you." He nodded. "It gave me something to focus on."

She gave a small smile. "You're welcome. It's great to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Same here..." It was then that he noticed how close she and Roy were standing. He did not address it, but he grinned cheekily at his friend to make it known that he saw, and said, "How's dinner coming? I'm famished."

"Oh, right. Should be ready soon," Mustang responded, walking away to check their progress while everyone gathered around the kitchen island.

"What are _you_ gonna do now, Bec?" Elicia asked curiously, snacking on some sliced veggies set out on the counter.

"Director Armstrong asked me to help organize the agent training program. She wants me to revamp their education on interpersonal relationships...and trust me, it needs work. This one time, an agent _tried_ to..."

"Wait..." Havoc interrupted, full comprehension suddenly dawning on him. "...seduction school? All those lame probationary agents are gonna be hitting on you all the time?" He paused. "Do you _know_ how hot you are?"

Becca smiled. "Not on _me_. They'll be hitting on each other, but thanks, you're kinda sweet. And not at all jealous."

"You'll have to keep an eye on that, Bec," Breda joked. "They call jealousy the green eyed monster for a reason. Don't worry, though. If he gets too possessive I'll shoot him for you."

"Whoa. _Not_ possessive, just...I'm just a guy who knows how great a catch his girlfriend is."

"Nice save, Havoc," Hughes chimed in.

"Hey, guys." Fuery's voice came from the kitchen door, and he held up a box full of cookies. He came to stand next to her with a quiet, "Hi, Riz."

She put am arm around his shoulders, giving a momentary squeeze. "Good to see you, Kain." Lowering her voice, she asked, "And you _bought_ this apartment building?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Real-estate's a good investment..." His grin turned a little too knowing for her liking. "...and I had a hunch we might all need a place to live."

There was a sudden shout of, " _Kain_!" and Elicia's arms appeared around his neck in an almost attack-like hug.

The evening continued in much the same way, with their teasing banter and discussion of everyone's plans for the near future. Fuery would be working with her and Roy as tech support on foreign operations, having also taken a job in the Director's office. Havoc and Breda had decided to take positions at the FBI, still in the Criminal Investigative Division, but they would be leading their own team. Elicia would be returning to school soon and, whenever he was ready, Hughes would resume his role at Interpol.

Riza frequently found herself listening with a smile, grateful that they could all be together. After dinner, which was delicious, the group continued chatting and drinking in the kitchen until late into the night. At one point, Mustang came to stand behind her and she reached back, lacing their fingers together, and the natural simplicity of it all made her grin. Later, when the others left for their respective apartments, Hughes drifted off to bed, and Elicia claimed the couch with Fuery for a movie. They quickly cleaned up what remained of dinner and Roy poured them another glass of wine, taking her hand and pulling her into the bedroom.

He kissed her and then glanced behind, possibly looking for something, but his gaze found the photo she had left on his bookshelf earlier. Stretching out a hand he picked it up, eyes widening. "Shit...I never saw Berthold look so _happy_." He held it up for a second, thoughtful expression taken over by one of his smirks. "Does this mean you haven't changed your mind?"

She chuckled. "No, but I _was_ thinking we could start work with a trip to Prague."

"I thought we were planning and supervising ops, not going on them."

She shrugged. "Baby steps, Roy."

"Of course," he laughed. "And what's in Prague?"

"One of my Dad's stashes that could use some cleaning out. I know a great fence that happens to be in the area." She glided a finger over the scar on his neck. "You met him once."

"What, Barry? Awesome. I was really hoping to run into him again." He interrupted his own speech to take a drink. "This is good...death-by-cleaver has always been a goal of mine."

"It's nice to have goals." Riza smirked, taking a seat on the bed and leaning against the head board.

"Thanks for the support," he joked, sitting next to her.

She turned slightly to drape her legs over his and take the glass of wine. "Don't worry, I'd shoot him before he killed you." He put his arm around her, his laugh reverberating through her, and she bit her lip as another grin blossomed on her face. "So, Prague?"

"Definitely. Believe it or not, I've never almost died in Prague."

"I'm sure we could change that."

Fin

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you all again for reading, and I hope you liked the chapter! A quick note: I do have a couple stories in the works that I'm pretty excited about. Keep an eye out if you think you might be interested. I need a little break after the holidays, but I'll be writing and it will hopefully not to _too_ long until I start posting again. Have a good one! :)

 **Responses to guest reviews:**

Guest (12/25): Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! And sorry about the cliff hanger, but hopefully I didn't make you wait too long :)


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